Vodka and Oreo's
by Kaila.Nicole
Summary: A series of one-shots based around Batman and Wonder Woman's relationship. Inspired by The Lady Isis' "Sushi Ocean."
1. Pirate

AN: Thus begins another story, only this one is a combination of twenty-five one-shots. My inspiration is from The Lady Isis' "Sushi Ocean", which is a recommended reading.

**Pirate**

_Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call  
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall  
You've seen it all, you've seen it all_

_Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred years too late  
The cannons don't thunder, there's nothin to plunder  
I'm an over-forty victim of fate  
Arriving too late, arriving too late_

_A Pirate at Forty- Jimmy Buffet_

The sea is a living thing, constant in its endless, changing movement and the white-noise sound of it. Its waves roar deep into my blood, searing and tingling to an almost boiling point, but never making it over the edge. Clark's voice is still resonating in my head from five days ago, "You need a vacation, Bruce. Maybe a week or so. You need to get out of here." So I did. And now, I've done nothing but sit out on the back deck of my vacation home, overlooking the crisp white shores of the Gulf of Mexico, and get drunk. From the time I wake up around noon to the time I pass out in that too huge of a bed that reminds me of how lonely I am, I drink. It doesn't help, but I'm slowly convincing myself that alcohol will solve my problems. I've never been a heavy drinker, just a glass of champagne or two at a fundraiser or a shot of Jamaican rum, never anything too serious.

Until she was taken. There's another reason for the alcohol, too. It slows down my thought process, to where all I'm thinking about is the ocean. Moments of my past come back to me: six years old, playing in the oversized bathtub in my mother and father's bathroom, and I can recall the plastic battleship in my hands, pushing it further and further into the bubbly water. My chubby hands chuck the ship back out, resurrecting it for pure enjoyment, while the water slides quietly out of the tub, splashing onto the marble tiles. I had always wanted to be a pirate, setting sail to the sea with my parents and dog, Sadie. Now, I want nothing to do with the _gentle_ and turquoise-colored waves that roll in underneath my bare feet. Not too long ago, they were stained a color I was used to, red, with blood.

Tonight, I don't want to take a seat at my usual spot and gaze down at the beach-goers. Tonight, I am one of them. I look for a sign of her on the horizon, but the only thing I find is emptiness. It's funny, how I was so destined to protect her from my enemies, believing they were always one step ahead of me to finding out my relationship with Diana. I had never even considered her enemies, ones that escape out of the depths of Tartarus to seek their revenge.

The bottle of Grey Goose in my hand is beginning to warm from the salty air, but I tip my head back anyway and guzzle. Right now, it is the only bodily movement I can manage. _The Fates are against me_, she whispered as the Battleship Wisconsin's davit punctured her entire left side. The water swishing and slurping in my bottle of vodka reminds me of the sound of her body when it slid underneath the surface of the water.

I drink a little bit more, easing the bottle all the way back until nothing is left. Truly, there's something always left behind in the end, but right now there is nothing. I came out here on the beach to feel the wind, the sand still blazing underneath my feet even with the sun gone long ago. Unlike most nights, it is cloudy with a chance of a light rain.

I drop the bottle to the sand, watching a couple stroll by past me and give me a strange look. The numb feeling in my throat is back, tickling and teasing for another drink. I don't acknowledge it and instead step out, closer to the ocean's edge and I try not to think about the sticky salt water lapping at my ankles. My calves. My knees.

My chest. I dip into the water, opening my eyes and for the first time I don't feel that instant sting of searing pain. My blood has boiled itself to nothing, the rest of it destined to evaporate with the rest of me. Sea-glass eyes stare out at me as I swim deeper and deeper, resting my body against the bottom of the ocean floor. A group of navy-colored angelfish dart past and it seems their bodies are painted with stars. White stars. "Sure reminds me of the American flag, hun," The captain is saying to her and I feel my fists tighten, but she laughs. Squelching noise of the davit making its impact. _The Fates are against me_. USA Today headline: Wonder Woman Dies in Battle. _The Fates are against me_. I close my eyes and drink in the salt water that tastes like booze. Drink up me hearties, yo ho. Yo, ho, ho, a pirate's life for me.

By the time my body is found, I will be long gone, sharing a glass of champagne with my princess. Time does not exist while on (or under) the waves of its mercy. It forgets nothing, remembers everything else, and has plenty room to employ. Brothers have drowned in its wake, mothers have cursed its name, and lovers have disappeared into its vast waves. The sea is a living thing, constant in its endless, changing movement and the white-noise sound of it.


	2. Fingerpaint

AN: Jeezums, I don't believe it has stopped raining here for three days. When did late summer turn to early spring?

Finger-paint

_You're beautiful baby from the outside in  
Chase your dreams but always know the road that'll lead you home again  
Go on, take on this whole world  
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl_

_My Little Girl- Tim McGraw_

Splashes of blue, pink and yellow perched on the perfect, blank white canvas that was laid upon the table. Half-moon blobs of mint green settled around the entire page, creating a border. Curling like cats' tails, lavender flowers sprung against the starch background, smiling up at the orange creamsicle-stained spot that was occupying the sun's normal spot.

"Would you mind wrapping it up and washing your hands, Miss Melody?" Alfred questioned as he stood next to the four year-old, "Dinner will be ready in an hour." Turning her head of blonde curls, she nodded up at her grandfather with creamsicle-covered smile.

"Mkay." Her little pink smeared the blue and pink together, eyes lighting up at the mixture she produced. Alfred's heart swelled at the sight, knowing that she would be a bright young lady, just as she was a bright toddler.

"Or, we could move your paints and canvas outside? Would you like that, Melody?" Secretly, Alfred addressed his granddaughter by her natural-born name when they were alone together at times like this.

"Yes, yes!" She squealed, collecting a few of her paint samples into her arms and rushed towards the back deck. The old butler shook his head and brought the rest out to the little princess, who was already drawing a butterfly with her pink pinky. "Thank you, Grandpa," Melody Wayne grinned brightly, reminding him of the sun that blazed overhead, blocked out by the ceiling of the screened-in section of the deck the two were in.

"You are most welcome, Miss." He left the door open to keep a careful ear out for her and disappeared into the manor. Uncapping the red, she dabbed bright polka dots onto the butterfly's wings, eyes narrowing with concentration. Forty minutes later, that was how Bruce found his daughter, leaning precariously over the table and staring out at the garden. He could see the paint stains that littered her shorts and the front of her shirt, along with a smear of what seemed to be ice cream across her cheek.

"Daddy!" Melody squealed as he picked her up off the table and swung her into his arms, blowing kisses onto her sticky mouth.

"What are you doing, Mel? Painting a picture?" She nodded excitedly, her tiny legs kicking against his legs.

"Yeah! I'll show you, I'll show you." His daughter sat him down on the wrought-iron bench and revealed her masterpiece. Pushing back the strands of bright blonde hair, she cleared her throat and began pointing out various objects of her painting.

"It's gorgeous, Melody," Bruce placed a hand on her shoulder and placed a small kiss onto her forehead.

"Thank you," Her eyes squinted as she smiled, infecting her father as he too allowed a smile to grace his features, "Can we go out into the magic land?"

"Of course," He took her hand and led her out to the garden's entrance and unlatched the white picket gate. Tropical ferns, hibiscus, plumerias, roses, hydrangeas, and African violets tickled against her curious hands. In the middle of the garden sat a marble bench and a large fountain of an angel, wings spread. Bruce pulled her onto his lap, picking out a simple white lily and placed it in her hair.

"Mommy told me that I could be anything I wanted to be," Melody informed her father, "So do you think I could be a princess?"

"You can be anything, sweetie," He kissed her forehead and bounced the girl on his knee.

"Good. Cause I want to be a princess," She confirmed- more to herself than her father- and slid down from his knee, "You can be the king and Mommy can be the queen."

"King and queen of what?"

"Of… Gotham!" She answered, her tone full of excitement as she imagined all three of them ruling the city in beautiful gowns and sparkling crowns. Well, except for Daddy. He would wear… whatever kings wore.

"And what about Grandpa and Dick?"

"Grandpa can make sure every family has enough to eat and Dick can…" Her little paint-covered finger tapped her chin, "He can help organize parties for us. And he can come, of course." Bruce grinned again at his daughter's imaginative mind.

"Of course." He repeated and looked up to see his wife moving aside a weeping willow branch to join the two of them. They kissed and Melody made a face, looking away to create the garden into her "magic land". The couple made light chatter- how their day had been, when he'd gotten off work- until Melody cleared her throat and tugged on her mother's hand.

"Mommy, you have to see my masterpie!"

"Your masterpiece?" Diana's eyes twinkled as she glanced over to her husband.

"Yeah, that. Come on, come on," Melody tugged harder, her little toes curled into the path for more strength. Her mother laughed lightly, following her little sun up the path, through the gate and onto the deck. "See? See? What do you think, Mommy?"

"I think it is _beautiful_, Melody Hemera." The little girl beamed with pride, knowing both her mother and father approved of her painting. "In fact, why don't you bring it into the house and show Grandpa? I'm sure he would love to see it finished."

"Okay," She skipped into the house with her art and her parents could hear her calling Alfred in her sweet voice. Diana then turned to Bruce, slipping an arm around her waist.

"You think it's a coincidence that she can paint sunrises like that so marvelously?"

"That's something to take up with your goddesses, darling," He smirked and she chuckled, agreeing to his sarcastic response.

"Well, do you think it's another coincidence that her paint happens to be non-toxic?" She whispered seductively into his ear, which caused his hands to tighten around her waist and shudder with enchantment.

"What are you getting at, Mrs. Wayne?"

"I believe you understand _exactly_ what I'm getting at," She winked, biting back a smile as she disappeared into the house. Bruce stood alone on the deck, glancing from the half-empty containers of paint to where his wife had disappeared. Promising himself to reimburse his daughter with another paint collection, he stuffed the little jars into his pockets and joined his family for dinner.

That night, Bruce decided to give finger-painting and its messiness a shot.

**AN: Sorry for not updating sooner. I've gotten caught up with a new book, **_**Sundays at Tiffany's**_** by James Patterson and it's one of the best… imaginary friend turns real-life lover books I've read. Of course, it's the only imaginary friend turns real-life lover book I've **_**ever**_** read. **

**The name "Hemera" is from Greek mythology and she is the goddess of day and sunlight. **


	3. Disguise

AN: Finally! Done with my summer reading and all of its boring-some essays. Third chapter coming at you, folks.

_Don't wanna speak in case it comes out wrong  
Don't wanna blink cause in a second you could be gone  
I need a twist to help me turn, turn this story round  
I need a bridge to cross this dangerous ground  
Meet me in the middle like I want you to  
I gotta find your heart to shoot my arrow through_

_The One That Got Away- Natasha Bedingfield_

This wasn't his normal prowling ground. Due to some recent drug activity related to Intergang, he was stuck investigating undercover at Tonic, a new club on the Gotham Strip. Bruce didn't attend clubs too often- the loud music, pulsing floors and skimpy, wasted women weren't his sort of thing- if he had a _thing_ at all. The paparazzi had captured him slipping inside of the building, so no doubt his face would be plastered on TMZ before the night was over. Not that he cared, anyway. It just added another dimension to Bruce Wayne, billionaire extraordinaire.

"What would you like to drink?" The bartender brought him back to the flashing lights and sweaty, drunk college girls on his left.

"Scotch. On the rocks." The redhead next to him giggled and almost drenched his jacket with whatever girly umbrella drink she was draining.

"Oh, my God. I'm _sooooo_ sorry!" She wiped his clean sleeve a couple times before sticking out her hand, "I'm Hannah."

"Bruce," He stated and she giggled more.

"Well, duh. Everybody knows who _you_ are!"

"Really?" He leaned in close and whispered in his playboy voice, "I hadn't noticed." Hannah continued her nasally giggle, glancing over at her girlfriends who were eyeing up his form. The Scotch appeared in his hand, thankfully, and he quietly slipped away as Hannah conversed with her pals.

_You're not here for flirting. Find the guy, get the information and get the hell out of there_.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," He muttered and dumped his glass back, feeling the sudden burn of the liquor. Pushing past the dance floor, he made his way to the back and sat down at an empty table topped with gum wrappers and beer bottles. The music was especially annoying now, blasting away at his skull with some upbeat pop song about falling for a guy with a girlfriend. If his pride wasn't so important, he would have rolled his eyes. What has music come to? That was one thing he didn't invest in: record companies. Completely pointless, with their floozy rap artists and "hardcore" rock bands. A hand pressing on his shoulder awoke him from his internal rant.

"This seat taken?" A gorgeous, blue-eyed blonde questioned from across the table. He shook his head.

"No, not at all," He smirked and watched as she sat down, pushing back her long wave of hair to sip her drink- a classic Bacardi Mojito. Her face revealed her exasperation- along with her arms crossed on the table, obviously ignoring the sticky substances caked onto it.

"You've made a huge mistake," She admitted to him, her eyes piercing his thoughts- now slurred by the crease of her breasts peaking out of her gold halter-top. Immediately, he figured she was some kind of criminal and probably had a gun hidden in those tight dark-wash jeans.

"Why do you say that?" She shrugged nonchalantly and took another drink.

"I'm not who you think I am."

"Then just who are you?" He tried to keep up the deep baritone, but her words were beginning to confuse him. Another shrug.

"It doesn't matter. No one is who they are, right?" He calmed, figuring that she was blowing off steam from a rocky relationship. He offered to buy her another drink and she snorted. "I'm all right," She flicked her Mojito with a single un-manicured nail, "This is my… sixth one, I believe. Any more and I'll be crying over the bitch who stole my boyfriend on prom night, if you catch my drift." He appreciated her brute honesty. He could relate, even though _he_ was the one doing all the heartbreaking. To be fair, there had never _been_ a relationship to begin with, but Diana liked to assume there had.

"Want to dance?" The idea sprung upon him so quickly and so loudly, he had no chance of taking it back. _Damn it, Wayne. You're not here to pick up somebody else's psychotic ex-girlfriend. You're here to investigate! _He drank down the Bat for a moment, leaving his drink on the table with hers and placed a hand on the small of her back. Five minutes later, he realized that his invite had been bittersweet- he had lost sight of the guy he was supposed to meet, but damn this woman could dance. She pressed her hips against his, platinum hair swinging with the rest of her, hands gripped tightly on his shoulders. The song pumped into another, a slower one with less bass, so Bruce could hear his own thoughts again. Suddenly, she pulled him from the floor and back to their previous spot. His clothes were suffocating him, sticking to his sweaty skin as he caught his breath. She, on the other hand, was hardly breaking a sweat and her platinum hair was still straight and perfect. Bruce didn't know what it was about this woman, but he found himself addicted to her presence. Unfortunately, the man he had tried to keep an eye on all night was missing and that meant he would have to chase the man down. Which meant his mysterious rendezvous would have to end.

"I would offer to buy you a drink, but I'm pressed for time," His fingers lingered on her face, outlining her jaw line with his thumb, "Places to go, people to see." She blushed, nodding and cracking a smile for him.

"Understood," He rose from the table and was headed towards the exit when she called after him, "Maybe we'll… run into each other someday."

_Yeah, that's not going to happen_. Bruce turned back around, grinning.

"Sure. We might."

"You wanted to see me?" Diana questioned him- rather curtly- as she stepped out of the transporter. Bruce winced at her tone on the inside and on the outside, he barely blinked.

"I have some information from Intergang. Thought you might want to see it." The Bat Cave was especially drafty, compared to her warm, cozy bed she'd been in before Bruce had contacted her. Oddly enough, Bruce didn't immediately kick-start the computer and instead whirled around to face the Amazon princess. She eyed him suspiciously.

"What?" The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as he revealed a platinum blonde wig from beneath his coat. She flashed him a brilliant smile. "Well, Bruce, you know I don't have any problem with your other night job."

"What are you-" He froze, eyes narrowing, "-Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that the next time you interrupt me from my work, there will be serious consequences." She rolled her eyes. "Did you really expect me not to figure it out? A simple check of the transporter logs is all I had to do."

"Oh, no. I expected you to figure it out. I'm just surprised that you didn't earlier." Ignoring her teasing comment, he tossed the wig aside and pressed his hand to the small of her back.

"Did it ever cross your mind that there would be a severe punishment for wasting my time?" She widened her eyes sarcastically and placed a hand to her open mouth.

"I'm shocked, _really_. And what is this 'severe punishment'? Washing the BatMobile?" He shook his head and began to lead her up the cave's steps to the manor.

"Not exactly."

"Well, I don't have to wear my disguise do I? That wig sure was itchy."

"No, Princess. No disguises."

**AN: Hope you enjoyed it. **


	4. Dizzy

**AN: This is pure fluff. Not much of a storyline. Ha, ha. **

And you'd abandoned all your dreams  
Gave them up or so it seemed  
For the chance to be my girl  
And the world won't ever change, if you only stay the same  
I'd give you the moon if I could  
I'd give you the stars if I could  
I'd give you my heart if you would take me as I am

I'd Give you the Moon- Jake Coco

I wanted an answer. I wanted an answer from this gorgeous woman that lay curled up beneath me in my bed, her tresses tickling my bare arm.

"Why do you love me?" I whispered softly to her and she replied with a slight hitch in her breath. I froze, watching as she turned in my arms and snuggled her face into the crook of my neck. A smile broke across my face as the moon rose above us, an enormous nightlight for lovers. Untangling myself carefully, I headed downstairs for a glass of water and let the water run over the cup and onto my hand before shutting the faucet off. Was this all a dream? Would I wake up in the morning and feel the need to rip my heart out? I emerged back into the cool room as a light breeze danced through the curtains and brushed at my warm fingertips. The crystal glass fell from my hand- fingers twitching in agony- and clattered to the floor. The rush of water splashed onto the bed covers and my bare legs, sending chills up my already stiffened spine. She'd left me? _Already_? Where had she gone? I eyed the bathroom and found darkness- no not there. Had the curtains been drawn back a bit more? My usual vision for scrupulous detail was on low battery.

"This is beautiful, Bruce," Her sweet voice called from the balcony of our hotel room. Swallowing whatever had leapt into my throat, I joined my love in the cool air. The view was one of the most stunning landscapes I have ever seen. The ocean spread out before us, a black mass tipped with diamonds where the waves broke on rocks. Above, the inky black sky glittered with a thousand stars. Another cool breeze filtered through the palm trees, tugging at her gown and tousling her hair. Inhaling deeply, we breathed in the scent of the night- crisp freshness with a hint of sex. I glanced to her and for a second she closed her eyes, leaning her head on my shoulder with her arm through mine. I tried to imprint the scene in my memory. _It won't always be like this_.

"Gorgeous," I agreed and kissed the engagement ring on her left hand. The dull roar of the waves played on incessantly, almost lulling us back to bed until she outlined an object in the sky. My silent response was all she needed.

"It's the Northern Crown, formally called Corona Borealis. A wedding gift from Dionysus to Ariadne," I gazed up to where she was pointing but couldn't grasp the shape in the cluster of stars above us, "Dionysus rescued her from Theseus on the island of Naxos. Her wedding crown was set in the heavens as the constellation Corona."

"Like the beer?" Diana chuckled at my humor of the situation.

"Not the same thing, but yes- technically like the beer." In response, I lowered my head, grazing her neck with my lips. The skin underneath me was lovely, like she, and smelled of his cologne. I held her close, fingers tracing the curve of her jaw then disappearing into her hair. My lips brushed hers, so lightly it was no more than a whisper. Her laugh was light, traveling through the night and swallowed up by the ocean's current. She was simply intoxicating, soaking the oxygen out of my lungs to the point that I was dizzy, nodding in agreement with everything that slipped out of her swollen, red lips.

"Want to go back to bed?" I could see that my voice had sent shivers down her body, goose bumps appearing on her arms that were wrapped around me. Before she could reply, I whisked her off of her feet and tossed her onto the bed playfully as she laughed at my antics. I crawled on top of her, palms pressing against palms and kissed her forehead. "Why do you love me?" I asked again. Her face was blank for a moment and I stiffened again, hoping she hadn't taken my question the wrong way. Instead of answering, though, she responded in another way. Afterwards, I found myself lying awake again, on the verge of languish, I found my answer in the light that draped upon us like a comforting blanket.

I would give her the moon, if I could.

**AN: See? Told you it was just pure fluff. Next one won't be so fluffy, more comic than anything. **

**If I can slip this in, I was wondering if you would kindly pray for my grandpa. He had a valve replaced in his heart, one failed and they stuck another one in there. He has been doing great, but today he slipped into unconsciousness and he's having a hard time staying awake. Anyway, just send a quick prayer in for him. Trust me, it couldn't hurt anything. Thank you, dearly.**


	5. Sugar

AN: Yes, I'm painfully aware that it's nowhere near Christmas time, but I was reading a Maximum Ride fanfiction about cooking, and this song popped into my mind.

_I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar  
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe  
The ones that look like Santa Claus  
Christmas trees, bells, and stars  
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe_

_Christmas Cookies- George Strait_

"I don't know if this is a good idea…."

"I know that I'm not that skillful, but I figured these would be easy to try."

"Hmm… all right. You must know, I don't feel one hundred percent pleased with leaving you alone like this."

"And I'm sure he won't either. Do you know how long I will have?"

"I would say about four hours, depending on the amount of _business_ he'll be dealing with."

"All right. Thank you so much, Alfred."

"Always a pleasure, Miss Diana. The cookie sheets are just below the oven. I recommend using the newer ones, as they don't tend to stick as much as the older sheets." Diana pecked Alfred on the cheek and lightly pushed him out of his haven, coat draped over one of his arms.

"Now you get going. Wouldn't want to keep your lady waiting," She winked and she could have sworn a slight blush crept up the Englishman's wrinkled face. Alfred bid goodbye and Diana locked the door behind him, immediately overwhelmed with the emptiness of the manor. Pulling an old radio from the hall closet, she plugged it in next to the mixer and cranked the volume up. The Wayne kitchen was suddenly full of Christmas jingles- or whatever Man's World called them. Diana didn't believe in Christmas or any of its legends, but she enjoyed the "jolly" feeling of brightly-decorated pine trees and the smells of cinnamon rolls, green beans and honey-baked ham that came with the holiday. Although, she found the legend of the fat man in red coming down peoples' chimneys mildly disturbing.

Grabbing the recipe she had printed off from the internet, her eyes quickly scanned the list of needed items. "Sugar, sugar…" She chanted, throwing open the cabinets in search of the missing ingredient. Surely, Alfred would have plenty of sugar in stock. "Just my friggin luck," Diana blew a breath out and let her mind wander to where she had caught on to such a word. _Wally_. "Of course," She chuckled dryly and ripped off a new sheet of paper for a grocery list. Going down her paper, she realized that Alfred had no red or green sprinkles, no vanilla extract and no white sugar. Figuring she might as well act like any other civilian, she grabbed a pair of car keys from Bruce's extensive row of keys and headed to his garage. Did any other civilian drive a Lamborghini Reventon? She didn't think so.

"Liars!" Diana shouted inside of the car as she read the _Open 24 hours_ sign on the local grocery store, "Damn it." So far, she had ventured through Gotham, Blüdhaven, and through Metropolis's main streets. Needless to say, the usual calm and collected princess was beginning to grow agitated. With a tap of the gas pedal, she was back on the highway in holiday traffic. Where were all of these people going? Surely, they weren't in the same ordeal that she was in. Horns blared around her, scraping at her nerves that weren't already gone from young teenage drivers with loud stereos and blaring police sirens. The merry tunes coming from the speakers weren't helping, either, and only added to her frustration.

"Yeah, I'll tell you where you can ride your one-horse open sleigh, you son of a-" She muttered angrily to herself before being cut off by a man chatting away on his cell phone and waving his arms around madly. Diana slammed her head into the steering wheel, jumping back when the horn beeped loudly. With relief, her eye caught a local convenience store and she swerved into the parking lot. Finding her essentials and ignoring the blunt stares at her sudden appearance- after all, superheroines normally didn't shop for Christmas-colored sprinkles on Christmas Eve too often, now did they?

"Find everything you need, miss?" The cashier gleamed up at her and seemed disappointed that she wasn't in uniform. Even so, nobody else could have pulled off the white T-shirt and denim jeans as well as she.

"Certainly. I must say, this is the busiest I've ever seen Metropolis, even around this time." He stuffed her things into a plastic bag and handed it over, making sure his fingers dragged across her hand. Diana suppressed the urge to smack him and knew that he was simply a man and that was what men did. _Such pigs_.

"Honey, if you think this is bad, you might as well fly up there to New York City. Busiest goddamn place you ever did see." Her lips flickered into a hint of a smile before rushing back to the car. Eyeing the digital clock in the car, she realized she only had about two hours to finish the cookies for Bruce. He'd been ignoring her lately and she was sure it was because of the family-oriented theme of the holidays. Maybe if she did something special for him- although she doubted he would even try the desserts- it would bring him out of the hole he had dug himself into for the past few weeks. She sent a quick prayer out to Hera for the strength to deal with him for another day. And she sent out another quick prayer to Hestia, the goddess of cooking, to ensure at least a single batch of perfect cookies.

Bruce arrived at the manor around one in the morning, which was early for Christmas Eve. This time of year, the most he had to worry about was muggers or robbers dressed up as Santa Claus. But as he entered the kitchen to revive himself with a glass of water, he found he had another criminal to worry about. Sugar. The white powder covered most of his kitchen- the table, the counters, part of the refrigerator and half of the cherry-wood cabinets.

"What. The. Hell." He had to keep himself from gaping at the sight of the usually spotless kitchen. A tiny sneeze erupted from behind the table, making his pulse accelerate. "Alfred?" He came around the piece of furniture and was surprised and relieved to see Diana sitting in the corner, covered in the powdery white substance. Even though his kitchen was worthy of a hazardous waste sign, his heart seemed to melt at the sight of her looking so helpless. "Diana, what happened?"

"The damn sugar bag wouldn't open, so I tried ripping it open because I was in a hurry and the sugar seemed to go every direct-" He pressed a finger to her lips and pulled her into his arms.

"What were you trying to make?" Tears were spilling out of her eyes and she turned to the side, wiping away the little rivers that were making tracks down her cheeks. She had just been trying to make him happy and now she had ruined everything. To top it off, Bruce had come home from patrol an hour and a half early and she was coated with sugar from head to toe.

"Christmas cookies," She half-heartedly pulled a jar out of her jean pocket, "With red and green sprinkles on top." Despite his urge to clean up after her mess, he chuckled and kissed her sugary lips.

"Come on, sugar," He tugged on her hand and lead her up the stairs where he drew her a warm bath, laid out fresh towels and left her to soak. He traveled down to the kitchen and eyed the mess again. Knowing he wouldn't have enough time to clean before Diana was finished with her bath, he grabbed a clean bowl and began mixing the ingredients. When he read that the recipe called for one and half cups of white sugar, he couldn't control himself and exploded into a fit of laughter.

**AN: Bruce baking cookies. That's quite a scene. Hope you enjoyed this. **


	6. Reality TV

**AN: My apologies if you actually like watching any of these shows I'm about to mention. I just find them… atrocious and pointless. **

Lifestyles of the rich and the famous  
They're always complainin  
Always complainin  
If money is such a problem  
Well they got mansions  
Think we should rob them

_Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous- Good Charlotte_

"Bruce?" Her voice tickled against my chest and I looked away from the newspaper to the crown of her head.

"Hmm?"

"Why would anyone star in a show called _I Love Money_? Isn't is obvious that _everyone_ loves money?" I smirked, hoping she wouldn't notice that I found her naiveté adorable.

"Everyone besides you," I pointed out, enjoying the fact that I was pushing her buttons as she turned around to face me, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Well, of course _I_ don't, because I have no need for it. And you never answered my question." To answer, I simply shrugged and went back to my newspaper. _Thousands of pages of once-secret congressional testimony and e-mail messages released on Tuesday showed that_- the paper crumbled before me, stuffed into the gorgeous hands of the Amazon princess in my living room.

I blew a breath out of the corner of my mouth, "Fine. I will answer your question, your highness," Her lips curved into a small grin, "The producers named the show _I Love Money_ because the players in the game are trying to win the said game for money."

"Final answer?" She giggled and handed my paper back.

"Final answer." I unfolded the newspaper with a _crack_ and began reading the passage again. -_Karl Rove and other senior aides in the Bush White House played an earlier and more active role than previously known in the_-  
"What about this show?" My fingers gripped the paper violently, a bit irritated she kept interrupting. I glanced up to the TV to see a bunch of frat boys with their hair spiked up and pants sagging. "There is a school for tools? How do you teach a tool?"

"A tool is a person who is- more or less- an imbecile. They're commonly used for their car or money and they don't realize that everyone is taking advantage of them." Silence followed my explanation and I snapped the newspaper out again. Every so often, there would be a series of _bleeps_ and the tossing of a chair against the wall. If those idiots could harness that energy for crime fighting, we would have a lot less criminals on the streets. Just as long as they stayed out of Gotham.

"And what about this show?" Figuring I would have some time later to read, I tossed the paper onto the coffee table and joined Diana's program. Oh, good Lord.

"The uh… show is about Playboy bunnies at Hefner's Playboy mansion and the…'trials' they face," I teetered around the subject lightly, watching as Diana's fist tightened.

"Trials? What do they know about trials? I would like to see the middle one challenge _any_ female Justice Leaguer!" She whipped around to glare, as if I had created the television show and the "trials" along with it. I raised my hands up innocently and smirked.

"Don't give me that look, Princess. I have no control over what you choose to watch, no matter how bizarre it is." Seeing that she was mulling over this in her mind, I pushed my hand closer to the remote, desperate to change the channel to something she would enjoy- and hopefully not criticize. As soon as my index finger hit the silver object, she yanked it back towards her and pushed the channel up button. Wrestling. My eyes glanced from the newspaper to the TV where two sweaty men in spandex were molesting each other. I suppressed a shudder. For once, Diana kept quiet and I peeked to find her face in a mixture of perplexity and admiration. Without warning, a growl erupted out of my throat and I quickly punched in a channel number.

Diana giggled at my antics and I wanted to give her a false reason for them, but I knew she would never believe me. Why was she enjoying looking at two people touch each other and throw fake punches, anyway?

"I decided that it was better than watching three robust blonde women and an old man," She explained and reminded me why I love this woman- always reading my mind without even a glance.

"That's reality TV for you." Picking up the newspaper, my eyes found my last paragraph.

"Why would they call it that?" She questioned again, "It's not even realistic." I laughed in spite of myself, knowing there would be many more questions. Crumbling the newspaper up and tossing it into the fire next to the television, I realized I would let her ask a thousand more questions. If she laid off the wrestling, that is.

**AN: Short, yes. The newspaper text is borrowed from the **_**New York Times**_**. Next one will be depressing. **


	7. Anger

AN: Warning, this one will be slightly- if not completely- angsty and morbidly depressing.

_There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass  
Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last  
And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring  
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds_

_Passing Afternoon- Iron & Wine_

Upon close inspection, anger is like an iceberg. The tip represents the anger, which everyone sees. However, there is ninety percent more of that iceberg hidden below the surface. Right now, Bruce's iceberg seemed to be relocating itself to the Caribbean Sea- melting away in chunks. He imagined that she would want him to calm down, but he wouldn't.

"_Calm down_? I'm supposed to sit quiet and play mute while you're lying on your death bed?" He snapped at her and before the sentence was finished, he felt terrible for doing so. Instead of apologizing, though, he turned his back on her unconscious form. Raking a hand through his hair to relieve some of his frustration, he eyed the team of doctors that were assisting Diana. Four of them sat in a separate room, shielded off by glass panes. An MRI sat, alone, on the table with a swirl of yellow, red, and blue colors. With what Bruce accumulated from medical television shows and his own injuries, he knew that loads of colors on the brain were a bad sign.

Another chunk of his iceberg plunged into the warm sea. Like hell, there are seven layers of anger. The first is denial, the second rage and the third blame. Bruce was now on the fourth layer of anger- guilt. Diana had been complaining of a headache for several days, but they'd blown it off. He even threw out the suggestion of her waiting up for him at night was causing it.

In a chair by Diana's bed, he broke out into a chuckling sob and buried his face into his hands. The doctors decided it would be easier to let her brain heal if they completely shut down her entire circulatory system. This would keep her body temperature down to stabilize her heart, they told him. Then, after a few hours of monitoring her brain activity, they would "reboot" her, like she was some kind of computer.

The sharp chill of her fingers came as a shock to him as he gripped them tightly. She didn't squeeze back. He moved into the fifth layer- depression.

As soon as Diana's heart rate flat-lined, the team of "elite" doctors shoved Bruce into the hallway and grabbed the crash cart. Now, frantic people pushed and shoved against him like a pinball machine. The flashing emergency exit signs and ambulance lights mimicked the sharp colors of a pinball game- along with the obstacles. Walls, building, cars, people. In what seemed like an instant, he found himself in the street. Two fighter jets zoomed past, one crash-landing in Central Park and the other plowing into a local bank. The audience around him shrieked and ran while he stood, hands in pockets. More pinballs now- smashing into the cars and Bruce. They came from every direction and began flooding the streets.

_They're just people, Bruce,_ she whispered, _they need a hero to look up to. And that's you_.

"No, it's not," He sighed and a nearby teenager gave him a wary glance. Ignoring the pinballs, he pushed open the door of the hospital and stepped into an empty elevator. Without thinking, his finger hit level seven and the doors closed with a _clink_.

"Sodium what?"

"Sodium Lauryl Sulphate. The chemical that infected her brain stopped her heart as soon as we restarted it. It's commonly found in garages or auto shops. Somewhere damp and dark." The doctor struggled against Bruce's hand that was lifting him off of the ground inch by inch.

_Like a cave_. He dropped the doctor back onto the floor and raced toward Diana's room, slamming open the door.

"How bad?" Her voice croaked from the corner of the room. The fire and chaos outside lit up the room in a brilliant shade of orange. But here, the screams were muffled as if through a goose-feathered pillow. A thousand excuses and lies ran through his head before he chose the right answer.

"You're on bypass," She stared quizzically at him for a moment and he swallowed the lump in his throat, "A machine that replaces the duties of your heart by pumping blood to the vital organs." His fingers twitched slightly, watching as she sucked in a breath.

"Turn it off."

"No." His tone had meant to be firm but had transformed to pleading.

"No? Bruce, goddamn it, turn this machine off!" She lunged to press a button and he forced her back into her bed, his hands and knees pushing against her. Normally, she could have easily tossed him through the entire length of the hospital, but now she simply gulped for air and stayed limp underneath his hold. "I don't… _want_ to be artificially living," She explained as she panted, "That is _not_ the way an Amazon should live." Bruce shook his head, silencing her pleas.

"You can't leave me." His demand surprised them both. Diana's eyes softened as he rolled onto his side, facing her.

"I won't," She promised and kissed his forehead, bringing her hand around to play with the tiny locks of hair at the nape of his neck, "but you need to be down there." The gunfire rang outside and a series of car alarms blared.

"I'm down there all I need to be."

"Bruce, the world needs you-"

"They need Batman," He spoke against her smooth cheek, "Besides, the rest of the team can handle it."

"No, they can't. You know that you're practically the strategy leader of the group-" One of his fingers moved up to press against her lips.

"Hush. You're more important." She rolled her eyes.

"You're just saying that because Luthor isn't attacking Gotham."

"So sue me," He quipped, clearly avoiding the question with a small smile.

"Maybe I will," She curled up against his body tried to keep her heartbeat steady so he wouldn't worry- well, more than he already was. Silently, his eyes spilled out tears into her ebony hair.

"It's my fault," Bruce admitted after some time.

"What are you talking about?" Diana mumbled against his shirt, noticing the wet marks from her tears.

"The doctors said that the brain aneurysm was triggered by a chemical in the Batcave. With you being down there for such prolonged periods of time, it infected you as you breathed and moved into your brain."

"Why isn't anyone else infected, then?" He kissed her forehead.

"You're just special, I guess." She chuckled and understood he didn't have an answer- that was why he kept making stupid jokes. She would truly miss him and his odd sense of humor. Lightly pressing her lips to his chest, Diana tried to gain the strength to say the next words that slipped out of her mouth.

"I'm tired. I think it's time to go to sleep." His body stiffened next to hers, his fingers that had been trailing through her hair froze.

"Just… just a little longer," He moved back into his place by her side.

"Bruce, we're always going to want just a little longer," Her voice became weaker, knowing he would be the one to do it. Bruce, in the end, would cause her death and she knew it would shatter his heart to a million pieces.

"I don't-" His body trembled, shaking with anger and misery, "I don't think I can do it."

"It's okay." Diana's eyes bled into his, melting the Batman's mindset away.

"It's not okay," Bruce interrupted, tightening his hands around her arms, "Why is it okay with you? Why aren't you angry?" Her cold hand pressed against his jaw, tracing the curve with her the pad of her thumb.

_Oh, Jesus. Why won't she be quiet? Why is she asking me to do this? _

"That is _not_ the last feeling I want to experience." His eyes gazed brokenheartedly into hers. Feeling like his body wasn't his own, he tore himself from her arms and punched in the buttons on the machine. Both of their hands reached up for one another, pulling each in closer and closer as Diana drew in a breath. Which one would be her last one? Bruce had never liked betting and now he was betting with her _life_. She crawled nearer to him, bringing their lips together and then breaking apart, her forehead against his.

"Diana, I-" Her finger pushed against his lips to silence him.

"Hush, Bruce. I know everything you're thinking." She smiled up at him. He moved into the sixth layer- panic. Were her eyes a bit more glazed over? Were her hands trembling even more slightly? He knew his damn sure were. Another breath came out and was never replaced. She was drifting now, her smile falling into a straight line and her eyes spilling out tears. A warm feeling covered his leg- after all, death is never graceful, even for an Amazon Princess. The blue irises stayed their color for a few minutes before fading away with the rest of her. Bruce lay beside her as a war waged on outside and doctors flew through the hallways, yelling out orders and breaking open bags of morphine. His fingers brushed her face, closing her eyelids and dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Princess."

After returning home from the hospital, Bruce collapsed onto his bed and stuffed his face into her pillow. How long would it take before her scent left? Maybe there was some way to lock the scent into the fibers of the pillow. God knows he would be holding onto it for dear life for… well, the _rest_ of his life. Something rigid poked the corner of his eye and he lifted his head to pull the object out. An empty envelope?

_Bruce- _

_Went up to WT to check in with J'onn about headache. Grabbing an aspirin and a mocha. Be here when you wake up. _

_Love, Diana_

The sobs wracking his body drew the breath of out him, his face pressed deep into the pillow. When he ran out of tears, his body was famished and allowed him to catch his breath and turn over to stare at the ceiling. He watched the ceiling fan spin round and round for a while. It reminded him of Diana and him in the ballroom and the way her dress and her had become one and would just spin and spin and spin off the tips of his fingers. Dancing on the edge but always within reach. Now when he reached out, there would be no dancing partner and only empty air.

The envelope was pressed closer to his chest as he closed his eyes and sank into the covers. Finally, he reached the seventh layer- acceptance- and fell into a restless sleep.

**AN: Extra credit points if you can realize I took some dialogue from an episode of House, M.D. Another point for recognizing a line from JLU. If my page breaks fail, please don't blame me. If they do, I'm just going to state "page break" next time, because Fanfiction never respects my page breaks. Argh. **

**You know the drill. **


	8. Monopoly

**AN: If you've ever seen or read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, you'll understand the chess game a bit better. **

_You're always the mysterious one with  
Dark eyes and careless hair  
You were fashionably sensitive  
But too cool to care_

_These foolish games are tearing me apart_

_Foolish Games- Jewel_

"You want to make a bet?" I called through the empty house, "Whoever finds 'precious package' first picks where we go out to eat."

"This isn't a game, Princess," Batman's gruff voice prodded into my brain.

"Says who?" I picked up a piece of sheet-rock and tossed it to the side.

"Why did Kal send _you_ to help me?" Surprised he was being so… distant- even more than he usually is- I responded with nothing. Truthfully, I hadn't the slightest idea why we were together- physically or emotionally. Having a relationship with him was like courting a bull in a china-shop. Reckless, stupid and in the end everything would be broken. I blamed my Amazon pride for not wanting to give up on us, but maybe I was turning into one of those pathetic, emotional women you see on daytime television shows. The ones who complain about where their life has gone and how their husbands cheat on them with secretaries, hookers and Roto-Rooters.

"Well, the Joker seems to have set it up to look like a game," I announced, eyeing the giant chess board that lay across the floor. The room I found myself in was about the size of an ordinary ballroom, only with checkered marble tiles. Batman moved past me, his shoulder barely scraping mine and the shivers shot down my back. Screw hormones.

"What's the point of having a giant chess board if there are no pieces-" I moved forward to walk across, but Batman's arm shot out and stopped me. Not to mention his arm landed straight on my breast plate. "What are you doing?" My question was directed to him stopping me.

"Sorry," His arm clamped down against his side like a Roman soldiers. Bruce was apologizing?

"Something must be terribly wrong."

"Why do you say that?"

"Never mind," I chuckled inwardly, turning to face him, "Why did you stop me? Superman told us to reach the basement immediately, that way we could find the package."

"The board. It's rigged."

"Then why don't we just fly across?" I pointed out. No more than a few feet off the ground, I found the first booby-trap. My hair fried, I collapsed onto the knight's place on the board and huffed. "Well, I suppose you can form a Plan B because-" A massive black object rose out of the floor, knocking me backwards into the middle of the board. Bruce was shouting my name as more black masses appeared, rising out of the squares on the board. Once the pieces were up, an electric fence zoomed up and over my head, linking together in layers and layers of fence.

"Batman!" I shouted, trying to find him through the pawns and bishops. "Diana? Are you all right?" The electricity on the fence looked rather powerful, but to be sure, I tossed one of the pawns against the ceiling. It came crashing back down and shattered into burning shards.

"We'll have to find some way to shut down the fence."

"Are you all right?" Inside, my heart swelled a little and I felt like a swooned teenage girl. Or, what I supposed they felt like.

"Yes, I'm fine. Can you find a way to-"

"No," He erupted from behind the black king- how fitting, "But I'm going to try and see if I can make contact with Superman or Nightwing."

"Batman…" I swallowed nervously, "Mind doing that a little later?"

"What? Why?" He growled, glancing up at me from his communicator. The knight that was quickly heading our way crashed into me as I pushed Bruce to the side. The knight's horse squealed noisily, ricocheting off the fenced confinement.

"This is why I prefer wild horses," Growling and shoving the horse back enough, I gained enough of a grip to throw it across the board. The white king and queen began muttering and all of the pawns were rustling excitedly.

"I feel like Alice in Wonderland." The phrase Bruce uttered was lost on me and I turned back towards him as the knight lay on his side, struggling to return to battle.

"This doesn't make any sense. What are we even supposed to do?"

"This is Joker trying to slow us down. All we have to do is play a game of chess and when I win, the fence will retract." A slight curve in the corner of his mouth showed me that his antics weren't going unnoticed- by him or me.

"When _you_ win the game?" I took my spot near the white queen.

"Alfred _did_ teach me every trick in the book, Princess," I could feel the smirk on his face and in his eyes all the way across the board.

"And Euphron taught me every trick before the 'book' was invented."

"Touché."

I moved my pawn forward two spaces and he matched his own with mine. My knight slid to be diagonal with my pawn. Bruce's knight- the one I had kindly knocked over- loomed two spaces behind his first pawn. I moved my bishop forward, two spaces left of my pawn. His knight moved in between my bishop and pawn.

"Feeling nervous yet, Princess?"

"It's not polite to interrupt the other player's thought process during her move." Across the board, I could detect the faintest murmur of "sore loser". My knight moved and sliced his pawn in half. His queen took the leap and slid across, staying near the edge of the board. My knight moved further in to capture another pawn. His queen made a bold move and cleared a pawn on my battlefront.

"Son of a bitch," I cursed under my breath and moved my rook next to the king for protection. His queen moved backwards, smashing another pawn as debris sailed past my head. I called my bishop back down, between two of my pawns and awaited the next move Bruce would produce. His knight edged closer, lining up in my battlefront and lurking dangerously close to my king. Shit. "Wait a minute-"

"Death by suffocation, Princess," Bruce was gliding across the board and extending his hand for a proper handshake. I growled and smashed my boot onto his toes. Even with the Kevlar and extra layers of protection, I could still feel him tense underneath me and I took pleasure in this fact. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It's called the Kostics Trap and the trick isn't as dated as yours." The fence was retracting now, opening back open the board where black and white marble was strewn across in chunks and mounds. "Besides, it's just a game." I smirked as he swung himself up and out of the arena. Suddenly, the dark knight scraped across the board, landing straight in front of me. In dirty chess, after either side had won, it was custom to capture the queen. Obviously, Joker still had a sick sense of humor and knew of this custom. My eyes grew wide and I shot upwards but the knight caught me with its mouth, crunching down on my boot.

"Let go of me, you pathetic piece of junk!" Fists curled, I pummeled one after the other into its face but the knight was persistent. Finally, the horse head slammed my body down onto the board and I felt several bones snap. Where was Bruce? Had he been captured by some rambunctious chess piece, too? None of this made any sense.

"Princess?" I craned my neck- feeling something snap below my thigh- heard Bruce's voice, and found myself in the Wayne library. The _Alice In Wonderland_ book plummeted to the carpet, the thud resonating through my aisle. "It's your turn."

"Right. Of course," I cleared my throat, collecting myself and wound my way back to the coffee table where Bruce and the game sat. Pushing my new-found book to the side, I studied to board in front of me and a voice in the back of my head wondered if he had cheated while I was away in… _Wonderland_?

Even though my eyes were stuck to the board, I could see him smirking. Yes, he definitely made a deceitful move.

"If you keep it up, your face will freeze like that," I muttered under my breath and his smug look faltered.

"At least I'm not praying to the goddess of patience every two seconds or spacing out."

"You were taking a long time," I reasoned and laid seventy-five dollars down in the middle. The dice in his hand rolled- practically pitched- across the board. One landed in my lap and the other bounced off of my hand and into my tank top. "And you, sir," I plucked the die out, "are a perp."

"You've been watching too many crime shows." Handing the little objects back to him, I studied the board. Bruce moved his fitting little pot of money around a corner. "So, did you dream about me?" The smile that settled on his face was actually _un_settling.

"Why does it matter?" A hint of panic rose in my stomach. I did not want to tell him about the dark knight that almost broke me in half.

"This isn't a game, Princess," Bruce whispered, the smile shining brightly not reaching his eyes. They were a deep, murky amethyst tone. I was falling, then, like Alice in the rabbit hole. And when I landed, an artificial light shone above me as I cracked open my eyes. A Cheshire Cat-worthy smile glittered next to the light and after a few moments, I noticed it was moving, talking, telling me something important.

"You are late, late, late Wondy for a _very_ important date," A scalpel glittered next to the smile. The restraints holding me latched tighter each time I squirmed and fought against the blade. I was in Joker's personal game of monopoly, his own exclusive possession to control. Before I plummeted back into the rabbit hole, I can remember hearing loud scraping noises above me. Like a game of chess.

**AN: Whoa. This was actually supposed to be a flirtatious game of Monopoly and suddenly it went morbid. I like it better morbid. **

**You know the drill. **


	9. Runaway Bride

**AN: Hopefully, by the time I complete this, it won't be two weeks later like the last one. I despise AP English. **

_I have climbed highest mountains  
I have run through the fields  
Only to be with you  
Only to be with you  
I have run  
I have crawled  
I have scaled these city walls  
These city walls  
Only to be with you_

_I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For- U2_

Wally, beside me, would not stop running his mouth. Normally, a sufficient glare would do him justice, but I guess he had been infected with the pre-wedding jitters too.

"Cool it," John ordered, green eyes flashing as Wally made another go-round in the guest bedroom. I stayed near the window, watching Shayera yank the chairs away from the caterers and set them up the right way. Too nervous to chuckle, I merely gave her a gracious smile when she caught my eye. I received a thumbs up in response.

"How can I? I love weddings!" Wally exclaimed, inspecting the little bottles of bubbles, disguised as champagne bottles. I, for one, did not want rice in my eyes when we walked back down the aisle. _Down the aisle_. Just down the hall, Diana was getting ready herself and Helena was probably brushing the last coats of makeup on her- as if she needed it. She could marry me in a trash bag and I wouldn't give a flying rat's ass.

"Then why don't you join the ball-and-chain club?" John snorted. An audible gulp was heard from across the room and I laughed along with John. Dick and Tim turned away from their X-Box game to eye Wally.

"Yeah, Speedster, why don't you? I thought you had a hot thing for that German exchange student who tutored me last semester?"

"No way. I took her out for a few drinks and she ran up the tab on vodka shots. Her parents must have ran out of milk when she was little and put alcohol in her bottle!" _Whump_.

"John, don't smack him so hard. He'll lose more brain cells that way faster," Dick came over to nudge his friend in the ribs, "But don't worry. I'll hook you up with somebody. Since Shay and Di are already taken, the only one left who can put up with you is Barb."

"Or Diana's sister, Donna," Tim added, coming in to join the conversation. I noticed a flash of something cross over Dick's face- jealousy, perhaps?

"No. Then it would be like dating Diana and you wouldn't want that." Wally scoffed.

"Why not?!" I considered bashing his head against the brick of the fireplace but knew he might bleed onto my fresh tuxedo.

"The old man would think you have the hots for Di, and you're just living out your sick fantasy through her little sister," Dick explained and John muttered something about a load of bullshit. Dick was street smart but when it came to hiding his blooming relationship with Diana's sister… not so much.

"Oh. Oh, God," The red-haired speedster gaped, "Thanks for pointing that out, buddy." Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I turned from the window to the group of men- well, some of them were.

"Can you all stop conversing about Diana? I'm the one getting married to her, after all," I grinned when Wally's face fell slightly. The news hadn't really hit home, I guess. Before Dick could throw out another reason Wally shouldn't go for Donna, Helena came bursting through the door.

"It's called knock-" She smacked a hand over Wally's mouth.

"We can't find Diana." The feeling in me- which I had assumed were pre-wedding jitters-, now sank to the pit of my stomach.

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"Did you check the bathroom?"

"Ohh! Is this like that movie with Julia Roberts, where she runs away before the wedding?!" John whopped the red-head on the back of his skull again.

"Not helping," I ground out and glanced back to Helena, "What happened?"

"I went downstairs to grab Shayera because I was having trouble with the veil and when I came back… she was gone," Her wide eyes showed me that this was, in fact, serious. If the Huntress couldn't find her….

"Spread out. Search the mansion and grounds. Don't tell anybody what's going on, though." How impressive would it look if I lost the Princess of Themyscira on her wedding day? "And don't tell Hippolyta, especially." As the search-party filed out, I double-checked her comlink. Off. Just my luck.

_J'onn? _

_Yes, Batman? _

_Can you get a hit on Diana? She seems to be missing._

_No, Batman, I am sorry. She had me put a psychic-barrier around her mind earlier._

_Why in the world-_

_Apparently, the bond between mother and daughter is quite strong on Themyscira. She was afraid her mother would control her thoughts and object during the service. _I detected a small amount of humor from J'onn's transmission.

_All right. Thanks, J'onn. _If Diana had wandered off, she wouldn't have gone far, considering it _was_ our wedding day. The two words sent shivers up my spine, a tingling sensation rushing through my fingers and the top of my head. Every bachelorette in Gotham and parts of the Western coast were weeping over the loss of the playboy. I, for one, was glad I wouldn't have to be that person anymore. It was too tiring, moving from woman to woman and always worrying about the scars and if they were sober enough to remember them in the morning. Diana always loved to trace them with a single fingernail, memorizing them like a map leading to a treasure. Battle scars, she called them, proof that I was a warrior. A warrior that reminded her of her favorite painting, The Apotheosis of Hercules. _Her favorite painting._

I found my way to the library quickly, it being my father's favorite room to sit in and smoke his pipe when I was little. Usually, the fire would be roaring, shining up on the print of Van Gogh's _Starry Night_. Now, the fireplace laid still, it being May and quite warm outside, anyway.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it a custom on Man's World for the groom to not see the bride before the wedding?" Her voice carried over from _my_ favorite painting. I pressed my hand next to hers on the canvas, running over my mother's own hand. My other wrapped around Diana's waist, pulling her close to my side.

"You're never wrong, Princess." In my peripheral, I noticed the smile that curled upon her lips.

"Would he have walked me down the aisle?" Her tone was far away now and I wondered if she would even hear my answer.

"In a heartbeat. He would have loved you. They both would have," The breath caught in our throats in unison, "I'm just sorry you never had the chance to meet them."

"So am I, Bruce," She turned and brought her hands up to my face, her palms warm, "But I'm sure they're here, somewhere. Should I add two extra chairs on the groom's side?" I chuckled, pressing my lips to her forehead.

"That's all right. They don't mind standing." A familiar whooshing sound caught my attention before a hand clasped over my eyes.

"Whoa, Bats! What do you think you're doing?"

"Planning on the ways to kill you and dump your body," I growled and spun to face the speedster who had interrupted Diana and me.

"You know you can't see the bride before the wedding! It's bad luck!" Wally clucked his tongue and I found myself wondering when _he_ could give _me_ orders.

For the sake of the event that was about to happen, I allowed him to pull me away and back into my room.

"Well, look on the bright side. At least she didn't pull some Runaway Bride shit and run out on you, right?"

"I'm thinking an abyss. Cut your body into little pieces, dump them all into a trash bag and sink it to the bottom." Another audible gulp and the creak of the door left me in peaceful silence.

"Ready?" Kal-El smiled from the doorway and for one of the few times in my life, I matched his expression, following him out of the mansion and into the garden.

**AN: Wow. I'm surprised I got this one up as soon as I did, considering I'm supposed to be doing an article on the bass tournament at my high school. Yeah, don't ask. **

**You know the drill!**


	10. Citadel

**AN: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been obsessing over a Warehouse 13 fanfic I was making. More of those to come in the future, because I love Pete and Myka. Anyway, I cannot forget about my loyal Bruce and Diana, though, so here is a new chapter headed your way. **

_I'm sitting on a citadel  
Contemplating life  
Making a point to waste my time  
I'm walking on clouds of white  
What if I fall  
What if I don't  
What if I never make it home  
What if I bleed  
What if I break  
And I find that I can't take  
The city below_

_Citadel- Anna Nalick_

"That bastard." Here she was, the Princess of the Amazons and a fierce heroine of the world, and the only thought inhabiting her mind was _him_. Not even a day ago he had a criminal blow him to smithereens and already he was back in action. Why she was thoroughly surprised, she didn't know. He was always pushing his body past the limits and never allowing it time to heal. A warrior with a moral conscious knew when to allow the body to rest. Perhaps Bruce was turning into Macbeth- a warrior with no morals. Diana chuckled, seeing Bruce in 11th century attire and a sword by his side. Kinky, but not realistic.

Her eyes danced on the horizon, eyeing the Wayne Tower and other architectural buildings glittering in lights of the city. J'onn called her up earlier to the WatchTower, but she was finding that sitting on the edge of skyscrapers was more enjoyable. Down below, couples strolled and paranoid ex-cons skittered along the sidewalks, a symphony of car horns and shouting peanut venders. _If only Mother could see me now_. Smiling softly, she hopped into the air, content with the idea of Alfred making sure he sought to a few hours of sleep tonight, and her mind on an iced mocha.

"Leaving so soon?" Pretending his voice didn't cause a plethora of shivers to jolt down her spine, she spun in mid-air to face the dark knight.

"Coffee is calling my name."

"I told you to not come back."

"You always tell me what to do. Have I ever listened to you before?" Running through every instance they'd been together, he felt his shoulders slump just slightly.

"I can think of one." She sighed, running a hand over her left arm- something she did when uncomfortable, Bruce noted. He knew about every single expression the Princess could fathom.

"And I respected your wishes. Why do you insist on bringing it up every time we are alone?"

"To keep me from pulling you into my arms," he blurted and she almost choked on the air she inhaled. Since when had Bruce been so… forthcoming? "Every time I see you, I'm like a little kid in a spelling bee. I'm chanting the correct words in my head, so I can memorize them."

"What words?"

"The three reasons."

"Ahh," A slight chill seeped through her uniform, brushing against her normally warm skin. The elephant in the room reared its ugly face. "And you insist on bringing this up to _me_ because…?" A loud crash signaled the Batman and he leapt off of the side of the building before she received a proper answer- as if she would ever get one, she realized. Bruce was a man of few words and when those words decided to appear, Hera only knows when they would. Long ago, she had told Bruce the same thing she was going to tell him tonight. "I can't wait forever." His response was a kiss to her forehead and then her lips. It was sad to admit, but those two simple showings of physical attraction had kept her going for quite some time. Until he dropped the bomb that he couldn't be caught with her and those damn three reasons fell out of his mouth.

"Nothing but a common thief," Bruce muttered and tucked an unused batarang into his tool belt, "As you were saying?" She floated down to his level, pressing a hand to where his cowl met his face and lightly tracing his jaw line.

"I can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Don't be coy. You know what I'm talking about. You _always_ know what I'm talking about. You always know what to say or what to do to make me wait just a few more months. You, _you_ can whittle them away like the notches on your bedpost, but I put my heart out on my sleeve every fucking day and all I receive in return is a blank stare or a glare from you?" She covers her face for a moment and his hands reach up to pry her hands away, but she waves him off, "In all truthfulness, if I had known you would be this much of an ass, I would have never fallen in love with you."

"You don't underst-"

"Like hell I don't! Bruce, I have waited and waited for you to come around and admit you feel _something_ for me. I- I want to have my cake and eat it too." He rocked back onto the balls of his feet, feeling the cold wind seep through his uniform. He knows something vital just shattered in front of his face. Mentally checking his pulse to see if he was still breathing, Bruce dropped his hands away from her shoulders.

"So where does this leave us?"

"Us? _Us_?" She chuckled dryly and inside, he winced. "What us, Bruce? You clearly don't want me and-"

"I've always wanted you, Diana," he pries off the mask and she can see the tears misting his blue eyes. "Don't ever doubt that."

"But I do and that's the problem. If you care so much about me, why don't you show it? Why do you hide in the shadows from all of the possibilities?"

"What if I lose you?" She's overwhelmed by the question and how he threw it out into the air so easily. "What if you lose me?"

"Then I will place you in the ground beside your parents, where you belong, Bruce."

"And if you die? What am I supposed to do? Forget you ever existed? Ship you off to your mother and never see you again?" The cold wind wraps around the two, pushing them closer to each other for warmth. "It's not fair." Her hands cup his face, tickling the hairs at the base of his neck.

"Why am I not surprised?" She flashes him a breathtaking smile and his heart skips a beat.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you're just about the only person who can protect _me_, an Amazon?"

"Oh, yeah. I've showed great displays of heroism. Allowing you to be nearly impaled by a missile, being turned into a pig-" The next reason is muffled by her palm as she chuckles.

"Reality check. You're Batman and I'm Wonder Woman. You're the Prince of Gotham and I'm the Princess of Themyscira. You're Bruce and I'm Diana. It's as simple as that. You are my stronghold," She takes one of his palms and presses it against her heart, "You are my citadel."

"Batman to Nightwing," He calls through his communicator and his adopted son quickly answers. "Take over my shift. My heat regulator is on the fritz."

"Since when do you use the word 'fritz'?" Diana can hear Dick through the exchange and she covers her laughter.

"Batman out."

"'Fritz'?"

"Stop laughing. I went on a mission with Flash."

"All right, all right. I'll stop if you take me somewhere and get me warm."

"Gladly."

**AN: That certainly took a turn. Citadel: a fortress that commands a city; stronghold.**

**You know the drill. **


	11. Candy

_Well that's just like last year on my birthday  
She lost all track of time and burnt the cake  
And every smoke detector in the house was goin' off  
And she was just about to cry until I took her in my arms  
And I tried not to let her see me laugh  
Yeah I live for little moments like that_

_Little Moments- Brad Paisley _

He feared Halloween. He wasn't afraid to admit that. On every sidewalk and in every neighborhood, there were ghouls, princesses, Power Rangers and Grim Reapers. Britney Spears, Barack Obamas and sexy nurses. The problem with costumes is that anyone could be anything. With everyone high on candy and the spirit of Halloween, you couldn't tell who was the Joker or the Riddler and who wasn't. His eyes were fixated on every costumed participant of Gotham's annual Halloween parade. How fitting, he grumbled, that the most dangerous holiday would be celebrated in the most dangerous city.

"Daddy, when are we going trick-or-treating?" Melody, dressed up as a cat- black whiskers painted across her face and dramatic eye makeup courtesy of her mother- tugged at his hand. The look on Diana's face when she'd seen the costume choice had been worth waiting the two hours for his daughter to pick a costume out at Party City.

"Yeah, right after the parade ends."

"But I want a Kit-Kat bar _now_," His eight year-old whined and the parents next to him smiled knowingly. Another float glided by, the riders tossing out cheap candy. No Kit-Kat bars. Melody wrinkled her nose. He never really understood her obsession with the chocolate treats. All he knew was that if she got what she wanted, she would be content. Another one of her mother's traits. He smirked to himself.

"You have to wait until it starts getting dark, honey."

"Why?"

"That's when all the ghouls and goblins come out." He wriggled his fingers and made a spooky sound. She raised an eyebrow in response.

"What's a goblin, anyway?"

"It's like a troll."

"Don't they live under bridges?"

"Yes. But they come out during Halloween."

"Why only Halloween? Why not during the summer? Don't they like to play Frisbee?"

"Considering they live under bridges for most of the year, I doubt they know how to play Frisbee, Mel."

"That sucks." He chuckled at her blunt assumption of the imaginary creatures' fates. She stood, quiet, next to him as a few other floats passed. Bruce could see the police vehicles and flashing lights down the street, signaling the end of the parade. He wouldn't be surprised if a couple of criminals were stashed away in the police cars. He needed to take Melody trick-or-treating and then head back to the mansion. Even though the Batclan and the League were on active duty, they still couldn't keep tabs on Gotham like he could.

"Trick or treat?!" Melody squealed with excitement as an elderly woman opened her door and a large Alaskan Malamute popped out from behind.

"Oh, what a cute kitty cat!" The woman beamed, digging around in her bowl for some candy. Melody held out her Jack-O-Lantern bucket and knelt down to pet the fur of the animal.

"What's your name?" The dog nuzzled her hand, panting happily. "Hi, Koda. I'm Melody." The woman's gaze flickered up to Bruce's and he shrugged nonchalantly.

"She has a gift with remembering names. Perhaps your dog was in the newspaper recently?"

"Yes, yes he was. Saved a teenager drowning up near Maine when we traveled up there to visit some kinfolk." Bruce nodded, glad that he _had_ recognized the dog and his daughter hadn't chosen another animal to talk to. Thanking the woman again, he headed back down the front porch steps and followed his daughter down the street. The full moon rose slowly above them as time passed, brightening the normally dark streets.

"Get your Kit-Kats yet?"

"Nope. Let's go up to that house." He gazed up at the elaborate maze that started from the driveway up to the door, littered with fake cobwebs and cackling laughter set on a CD player. _Joker's laugh kind of sounds like that_.

"How about we go to the next one?" Leaves skittering across the pavement caught his attention and he thought he saw someone standing in the line of trees in the house's yard. He took a step towards the figure, but another blink of his eye, and he saw nothing. _Stupid fucking holiday_.

"Daddy! That's not fair. This one is way cooler." His little girl stomped her foot, reminding him of her mother. "Besides, I know-"

"Okay, okay. This will be the last house, though." As always, he obliged and let her walk all over him. If she had pulled out the puppy-dog eyes, he probably would have agreed sooner. What was that phrase- wrapped around his finger? Leading the way, Melody ran straight into the intricate maze. Pushing plastic spiders and maneuvering around fake blood, he couldn't get the recorded laughter out of his mind. He closed his eyes momentarily while he passed a series of strobe lights.

_Bad idea, Wayne. You know you should have said no. This isn't safe_.

"And let her chew me out the rest of the night for not letting her go to the 'way cooler' house? I don't think so."

"You're grumbling to yourself, Daddy," Melody giggled and he cracked a smile. Finally, they reached the front door where a family sat- a witch, a zombie and a little baby lion. "Trick or treat?"

"Mason, give the pretty kitty her candy," The mother, her blue-green eyes shining through her witch's mask- cooed and the toddler stumbled over to Melody and dropped a fistful of junk into her plastic pumpkin.

"Thank you, Mason."

_Sure, now she's nice. The kid only gave her two pieces of candy. She'll be wailing for you to take her to another house so she can get more._

"Ready to go?" Melody nodded and skipped down the driveway, moving past the maze. "You get your Kit-Kat Bar?" She grinned, taking her hand in his and pulling him to the street.

"Mmhmm. We can go home now, Dad. I want to make sure I give Alfred his mint patties." He swung the arm she held, letting her twirl around him like the ballerina she wanted to be.

_What's her obsession with that candy, anyway? And I thought she wanted to be a princess?_ If his daughter weren't there right beside him, he would have burst out laughing. It surprised him that the Bat would remember something like that.

"Any particular reason you're addicted to that candy, Mel?"

"No, not really." He decided not to push further and guessed he might have been the same way when he was little. There were no specific reasons for everything that happened in the world with a kid. It was one of the bonuses of being young and innocent.

That night, after his children had been put to bed and Gotham was safe, he noticed an object on his nightstand. Maneuvering so his wife wouldn't awaken, he plucked the folded piece of paper and the bulge up and held it under the lamp's glow.

_Here, Daddy. I thought you could use a midnight snack. Now you won't have to stub your toe on the way to the fridge again. Mommy told me that Kit-Kats were your favorite. _

Enclosed was the same package of candy Melody had waited so long for. His face broke out into a smile and he cleared the soft lump in his throat.

_I Love U,_

_Mel._

**AN: No storyline, just a cute little moment between Melody and Bruce. **


	12. Introduction

**AN: This is a little AU, since this isn't exactly how they met. I just thought this was too good of an idea to pass up.**

_Don't know much about your life  
Don't know much about your world, but  
Don't want to be alone tonight_

_On this planet they call earth_

_You don't know about my past, and  
I don't have a future figured out  
And maybe this is going too fast_

_Taking Chances- Celine Dion_

My hand is trembling as I pull out the piece of paper with the hotel's address on the inside flap. Underneath the directions is a signature, J'onn J'onzz, and I wonder who bestowed this name upon him. All I know about him is that he is a savior from the depths of my mind, the one who brought me to Man's World. Of course, there's the chance that my mind has gone berserk and I'm really making up all of these things to deal with the fact I don't know what to do. How does one begin to save a planet? Is there some type of club you must join?

"Ma'am, can I help you?" The woman inside of the hotel greets me, a shiny smile plastered on her face. Thank goodness, here I thought I would be the only female.

"Certainly. My name is Diana, Princes- Prince. Diana Prince." She taps her fingers onto some type of device and hands me a card.

_It opens your hotel room door. That way only you can get in_, J'onn informs me. I blush, embarrassed, and quickly thank the woman before heading up the stairs. I take my time up the elegant staircase, revering the intricate designs carved into the handrails and the plush carpeting underneath my sandals. Men and women pass me, dressed in what I suspect is considered fancy clothing, but it looks too dark for my taste.

Finally, I reach my door and read the directions on the back of the card. After a few tries, the little door knob flashes green and I gasp out of fright. Did I do something wrong? I can hear J'onn chuckling in my mind.

_It's safe to go inside. I trust you will enjoy a nice, quiet night in 'Man's World'. Tomorrow, we will meet up with Superman and discuss the alien threat._

Slipping inside the room, I hear the door click shut behind me and listen to the gears winding. I'm not used to being alone. Usually, my sisters and I chatter into the late hours before praying and climbing into bed. It occurs to me, then, that I have nothing with me besides the clothes on my back and my uniform, tucked into a simple satchel at my side. And by the looks of what the people downstairs were wearing, I doubt they make their own clothes. I must find out the name of the seamstress soon.

Peeking into a separate room, I see what appears to be some type of tiny throne. Opening the lid, I peer into crystal-clear water, shimmering slightly as my breath hits the surface. Why are there two lids? Why does one have a hole? I pass up the basin and move onto the bathtub. It is quite boring, compared to the regal baths on Themyscira. I feel a pang in my chest- heartpain, they call it here- and I swallow the feelings that have traveled into my throat. I twist two silver knobs on side of the bath and water shoots out of a faucet.

Elated at the fact I won't have to haul water from the well- if Man's World even has one- I fill the bath up and strip, folding my clothes neatly near another type of basin with a faucet hanging over it. Stepping into the bath, I sink down inside of the two walls and rest my head on the back. The only sound is water dripping softly from the faucet and the muffled noise of people. It comforts me, knowing I am not alone in this strange world, even if I only know one person, who I have yet to meet and only hear inside my mind. Mother will think me crazy when I tell her of not having to work for a nice, warm bath.

It came right out of the wall, Mother, I'll tell her and she will shake her head in disbelief.

_My little stars, your brain has gone pseudo. Coalemus inhabited your mind while in Man's World_.

Perhaps he did, Mother, but I'm telling the truth. There are so many wonderful things in Man's World, though.

_Name one, Diana. I believe you to be a fool._

The sound of the hotel room opening awakened me, jolting me from a conversation with Mother. Panicking, I rise out of the bath and tiptoe to the door, peeking out into the room. The silhouette of a man's physique appears next to the bed, fingering my satchel.

"Excuse me-" Before I can tell him to get the Hades out of my room, a pounding at the door makes me jump. The man, however, barely notices and even lets out a breath of… annoyance? I don't believe he even heard me speak in the first place.

"Yes?" His baritone voice asks and I hold my tongue, letting him finish with his guest before kicking his ass out of my room. I thought J'onn said only _my_ card could get into the room?

"Mr. Wayne, we have reason to believe you are dating a Miss Diana Prince, is this true?" Biting back a gasp, my fists curl and I angrily mutter something in Greek.

"I've never even heard of her. Now would you please leave-" I can hear the door slamming back open with the slap of a palm.

"But she is registered to this room, sir. We would like to meet the lucky lady."

"Lucky?!" I snarl and slam open the door, ripping it off its hinges. "You ungrateful little man, I am-" The man, Mr. Wayne I presume, gapes at me for a second and his eyes drop down. Oh, right. I'm naked. In a flash, he clears his throat and wraps an arm around my waist, grabbing a towel and covering my body up from the men outside the door. They are holding little devices in their hands that keep flashing brightly, as if parts of the sun are captured inside of them.

"Sorry. She's feeling a bit out of the weather," The man with his thick arm around me smirked and I open my mouth to let him know just _where_ he can put his arm, but the hotel room door slams shut with a kick of his shoe and the annoying little maggots disappear. Their cries for another "shot" are muffled.

"Take your hands off of me, you filthy pig!" I push him away and throw the towel at his face. Pushing aside my will to pummel him to bits- these _are_ mortals, after all and I do not want blood on my hands the first day in Man's World- I grab his shirt collar and tug him down to my eye level. "_What_ in Hera's name are _you_ doing in _my_ room?"

"I believe there has been a mistake, Miss…?"

"Prince. Diana Prince." He sticks out his hand and I eye it for a moment. "Are you offering your hand as a sacrifice, Mr. Wayne?" His eyes widen, mouth curling into a smug grin and he takes his hand back.

"It's called a hand shake. A form of introduction. Most people are accustomed to it, but I see you are… not." I release him from my hold and get a good look at him. He is very attractive, I must say, and quite- what is the word?- charming for a male. He strides over to the bed, picking his suitcase up and heads for the door. "The woman at the front desk must have gotten mixed up and placed us both in the same room. I'm sorry for any inconvenience, Miss Prince." I nod swiftly, folding my arms across my bare chest and he eyes rove my body again. What is he looking for? According to the men outside of the door earlier, he appears to have been with some other women as well. Curious, I glance down at myself just in case the water from the bath has turned my skin blue or something of that nature. Nope, nothing. Just my breasts, navel, thighs and feet.

"Something you forgot, Mr. Wayne?" He shakes his head and without another word, he closes my door behind him. "Thank Hera," I sigh with relief and go to drain the bath, "I hope I never meet another man like him again."

**AN: Haha. I love irony. Giggle. **


	13. Ghosts

**AN: This is what happens when you having absolutely nothing to do on a Friday night and you're still wide awake from high school football and McDonald's. Warning: this one isn't very happy. **

_It kills me not to know this  
But I've all but just forgotten  
What the color of her eyes were  
And her scars or how she got them_

_That's when she said  
I don't hate you boy  
I just want to save you  
While there's still something left to save…_

_Savior- Rise Against_

He should have been watching the streets below him, but he couldn't help glancing back, searching the empty rooftop. She was here. Sometimes her entrance was subtle, so quiet even _he_ didn't hear it and sometimes it was a loud commotion of crashes and choke-holds.

"Hello, Princess." He could feel her glare, the cracked smile splitting across her face. She always got a kick out of making him tremble.

"Hello, Bruce."

"Any particular reason you're in my city?" She shrugged beside him, floating next to his stance on the gargoyle.

"Not really."

"I wish you would leave."

"Now," She purred in his ear and he shivered as her long, pale fingers scraped against his jaw line, "We both know that's not true."

"I'm serious. You're a-"

"-distraction. Yeah, I know. I've only heard you say it about a thousand fucking times." Bruce winced at her foul language and wondered why his mind was doing this to him. "You always say that." She chuckled sadly and he swallowed the edgy sensation in his throat. If she stayed any longer, he might start shaking.

"Why can't you leave me alone?" He moaned pathetically, dropping his gaze from her lips to the streets below. A dark-clothed figure stood alone on the sidewalk's corner, leaning against the building with one black-booted foot. Selling drugs, Bruce presumed. And by the way the man was scratching his right arm every few seconds, he acknowledged it was most likely heroin.

"You really don't mean that, Bruce."

"Yes. I do. Leave." She clicked her tongue, moving around to stare him straight in the eyes.

"No. You don't. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"Go away. I _hate_ you." She rose from her position and he pointed his eyes up so he wouldn't be met with her breasts. The sight he drank in wasn't any more comforting. Blood was running down her neck, clumping with the slight drizzle that was falling. The man down on the street kept scratching his arm. _Scritch, scritch, scritch_ like a cat clawing at an expensive sofa. Like pleading nails on asphalt.

"You only wish you could. The only person you hate is yourself." Why was she always right?

"Darling?" Another female voice called from the darkness of the rooftop. Bruce turned, eyeing the cat suit and long nails with his night-vision.

"I'm busy." Diana smirked, noticing how it was a challenge for him to bring the edge to his voice. She did love to leave him speechless, though, so she grabbed his chin with the cup of her hand and smashed her lips to his face. Selena stood in the dark, still, watching Bruce's head turn sharply from hers. She didn't understand why he was still so cold, after all this time. It had been an accident, really. She'd read all about it in the Daily Planet and that Kent man had written it beautifully. Even she had been touched by the article and here she was, a cold, heartless bitch. Finally, Selena gave up and crept back into the deeper shadows before slipping down a drain pipe and into the streets of Gotham.

_Tick_. _Tock_. _Tick_. _Tock_. A cold pain shot through his head, a borderline migraine. His eyes flickered open, straining against the moonlight pouring in from the open window. Positive he hadn't left the window unfastened, Bruce stumbled out of the warm bed and over to slam it shut.

"How many carats?"

"One and a half. She wanted something flashy, but not too big."

"For the job, I'm presuming?" He nodded. She was there again, sitting on Selena's side of the bed, running her fingers across the diamond. "I never understood the obsession with diamonds. I find them boring. Why didn't you get her a sapphire, like the color of your eyes?" Bruce just stared at Diana, knowing she already knew the answer. "Oh, right. She's a cat. Flashy objects are her 'thing'."

"You're a sadist." Diana barked out a laugh, holding her stomach from the pain that welled up from her laughter.

"That's a good one, Bruce."

"You are. Why do you keep coming back?"

"How should I know? You're the one who can't let go. You couldn't when I was alive and you can't even when I'm dead."

"It was your fault." Diana shrugged, moving from her position on the bed to stand with him next to the open window, blowing in cold air from the overgrown garden.

"You still blame yourself." His hand came up, wanting so badly the slap her- not Diana, this wasn't her. This wasn't the woman he had left stranded, fending for herself against the pavement, staring down a barrel. This was an impersonator. When he turned, it would be Diana lying in his bed, Diana with the expensive ring on her left hand, but it would be ordained with sapphires. "Bruce, you won't be able to get rid of me until you let go. And I'm going to make a stab in the dark here, but I'm guessing that will be when you find yourself cold and alone in an alleyway, wishing you had gained more in your life than a whore of a wife and a lonely, empty house."

"Stop it. Stop talking," He gripped her shoulders, feeling the sticky liquid running down over his burning fingers. The room was hot, now, like lava being spouted out from hell. More room for him down there, Bruce guessed. He tasted the crisp blacktop on his tongue, gagging at the smell of it in his mouth. Diana stood above him, silently watching as he choked. Then, the cold returned to his head, cooling his parched mouth and skin. But still, there was blood. He glanced up at his Princess to find the hole in her forehead, marring her beautiful skin. "I'm sorry."

"Isn't everyone?"

"Tick, tock. Tick, tock, Justice League," Lex Luthor smirked before pulling a makeshift bomb from behind him out of nowhere like a villain in a child's cartoon. "Isn't it time that I start calling the shots?"

"Luthor-" Kal moved forward, ready to persuade the man to hand over the bomb.

"Now, now, Superman. Don't act with such haste. This isn't just any homemade explosive. It's a Reactor." Kal narrowed his eyes and his fists curled. The people of Gotham shrieked at the sight of the bomb, cowering in fear inside of the box- courtesy of LexCorp- they were trapped inside. Usually, Bruce could handle villains in his city, but this was an exception. Luthor had toyed with this bomb- called a Reactor simply because LexCorp thought it needed a marvelous code name- and was planning to blow apart roughly three thousand people.

"What do you _want_, Lex?" Next to Bruce, Kal began trembling with hatred. Bruce took a step back, knowing there was no need to get between the two- they'd done this dance before, if not many times. He glanced back at the giant clear box and the electric volts that surrounded the box, sizzling and crackling when a breeze passed over.

"Is there any way to free the citizens?" Diana called through the communicator.

"No," Bruce muttered and noticed the bomb's screen counting down from one minute, "Not within the span of time we have." She did not reply and he assumed she was conferring with Shayera, trying to a way through the box. Perhaps Shayera's mace could counteract the electricity, but he didn't want to chance his peoples' lives-

"I'll take this," Diana piped in, dropping down from the sky to whisk the bomb out of Luthor's hands. A fist came down on Bruce's chest, blood bursting from his chest from the pounding of his heart.

_This is what fear is_.

"Don't mind if you do," Luthor smirked and the two superheroes whirled around, watching the device blow apart in Diana's hands before she could toss it away.

"NO!" Someone shouted and soon he was rushing towards Diana as her body fell to the Earth, resembling a star falling from the night sky. "Diana!" Chunks of pavement flew up into the air as she crash-landed, skidding across the street for several hundred feet. Smoke and dust from the explosion and debris filled his vision and for a moment, he lost sight of Diana.

"…teach you not to mess… plans anymore." His heart and legs pumped faster, _almost there, almost there_. Kal flew past him and a mangled cry erupted from the Kryptonian.

"What?" No response. "WHAT IS IT, CLARK?!" Then, there was that sound. _That sound_. His legs gave out from underneath him and suddenly, he was on the ground, nails digging into the pavement. Tears sprang to his eyes and he shut them, hard, because if the tears fell, then it was true. The dust cleared and lying hardly ten feet away from him was Diana, her hair falling over her face. Kal kneeled down beside her, running his thumb across her knuckles, torn to shreds by the gravel. Bruce crawled over, pushing the hair out of her face to see her striking features were torn, bloodied and bruised. The only one that mattered to him, though, was the single bullet hole against her forehead shot at close range.

"Did you ever find out?" She asks him, adjusting his tie with her cold fingers. He's standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, the one he used to share with Selena and the one he _wished_ he had shared with Diana.

"Find out what?"

"Who killed me."

"Aren't you supposed to know that?" She smiles softly, brushing her lips across his jaw.

"I'm part of your mind, remember? Anything you know, I know. Anything else… not so much."

"Kal doesn't even know and he was even closer to you than I was. It was like a ghost or something." He gives her a look and she laughs heartily.

"No, I'm not some type of _Ghost Whisperer_. I'm one of a kind." She straightens his tie again and disappears from the mirror. Bruce pulls the bottle of pills out of his pocket, tightening his fist around it before dropping it back down into the satin-lined pocket.

"That you are," He whispers, turning away from the mirror and watches as she opens the door for him and she's smiling again, knowing what he's going to do tonight when he's on patrol, alone and cold in the alleyway.

_We never had a choice  
This world is too much noise  
It takes me under  
It takes me under once again_

**AN: I don't believe Selena knew Clark Kent was Superman, so I apologize if that's incorrect. Also, Diana, of course, would not be smiling if Bruce were to kill himself. She's only doing that because she's in Bruce's mind and technically, it's not her. **


	14. Teenager

_Would you look at her  
She looks at me  
She's got me thinking about her constantly  
But she don't know how I feel  
As she carries on without a doubt  
I wonder if she'll figure out  
I'm crazy for this girl_

_Crazy for This Girl – Evan and Jaron_

She was aware of the harsh clips of heels clicking along the ballroom's marble flooring. Her blue eyes met his, smiling, as he knelt down and picked up a discarded slip of paper.

"'Thank you, Mr. Kent, for the gorgeous photo frame you-'"

"Bruce, I've already read it. That's the throw away pile you're ruining," she waved her hand, forcing her husband to move to the left. He gasped mockingly.

"You're throwing away a thank you card to _Mr. Kent_?"

"It's over two years old. Besides, I personally thanked Kal." He considered the card for another moment before tossing it back into the trash pile.

"What else did you find while you were snooping through my things?"

"Old birthday cards. Dick and Tim's grades. Etcetera," She shrugged and heaved another box in front of her.

"Should you be doing this?" Her eyebrow shot up, questioning her husband's sanity. "Considering your current condition, anyway." He motioned to her pregnant form.

"Is that a fat joke?" The couple chuckled and Bruce settled back into a pile of books.

"There a reason you're cleaning all this stuff out?"

"I'm just curious and being the ever-annoying prying wife I must be when with child," She leaned forward to kiss him over the box, "And supposedly, it helps women 'cleanse' their stress." A skeptical look crossed his face, but was soon replaced with dread as Diana pulled out his high school annual. "Now what do we have here?" He lunged for the book and she tugged it right out of his hands.

"Please don't look at that." His lower lip wobbled sarcastically and she swatted at his arm reaching out for the yearbook.

"What's the big deal? Were you not voted 'Most Likely to Become a Superhero'?"

"Maybe." She rolled her eyes and flipped the book open, inhaling the scent of must and gloss-covered paper.

"Michael Walker, Jasmine Wallace…" Her index finger scoured the old pages, "Ah, here we are. Bruce Wayne." He cringed inside as her jaw dropped, sparks lighting up in her eyes as she double- no- triple-taked before… "Hera, you were a- a-"

"Nerd? Geek?" He rattled off a few more names the kids used to call him back in those days. Many people forgot that Bruce Wayne used to be a teenager instead of a hero. He preferred it that way, too.

"Cutie," She finished, her gaze flickering back up to her husband and she caught the slightest hint of pink flushing his cheekbones. "I don't see anything wrong with this picture. From what I've seen of Man's World, the 'teenage' part is supposedly the most… stressful."

"That still doesn't give me any right to wear a pocket-protector." He watched her shrug, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Swiping the book from her, he flipped to the sports section in the back and shoved it back towards her, his finger tapping at a photo of a wrestling match. "But I did join the wrestling team, so at least I wasn't too much of a-"

"Bruce, what on earth are you wearing?"

"What? I don't see anything wrong." He double-checked the picture. Nope, nothing out of place or falling out.

"Honey," Her fingernail tapped at the outfit, "You're wearing Kal's colors. Red and blue. I'm positive he would get a kick out of that."

"Considering he won't ever be laying eyes on this, I don't believe I would have to worry about that," He paused for dramatic effect, "Right, _honey_?" Diana giggled, closing the annual up and placing it to the side before digging through the rest of the box.

"Of course. Besides, there are plenty of other things I could use against you if you were to ever cross me."

"Okay, I have to admit," He leaned in close, his mouth moving against her ear, "You scare me sometimes. A lot."

**AN: Not very much going on in this one, obviously. I'm too busy with my in-depth on texting while driving to add much more to it. The next one will be pretty interesting, though. **

**You know the drill.**


	15. Winged Creatures

**AN: There is no apology I could produce for this chapter being so late. I could give a thousand reasons- okay, not a thousand, but still. Too much homework is the main excuse. But here's the fifteenth chapter coming at you!**

_When there's a shadow you, reach for the sun  
When there is love in you, look for the one  
And for the promises, there is the sky  
And for the heavens are those who can fly_

_Only If- Enya_

"What troubles you, my little sun and stars?" Diana looked from her window to the silhouette of her mother, standing in the doorway. Diana rose from her position; straightened her new gown her sisters had made her for her thirteenth birthday.

"Nothing troubles me, Mother. Everything is perfect." Her mother smiled and stepped into the candle-lit room.

"Apate appreciates your lies, but I am not buying them. Your far-away gaze signaled your discomfort." Diana blew out a breath, leaning back onto her bed. Hippolyta sat down next to her daughter and ran a hand through her jet-black hair. "Tell me what is wrong."

"I do not know, Mother. I know I should not be afraid, for I am an Amazon, after all, but the winged creatures outside frighten me." She buried her face into her mother's shoulder.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, Diana," Hippolyta chuckled, kissing her daughter on the forehead. The dark winged creatures outside squealed and beat their wings against the stucco walls. "They will not harm you."

"But their fangs- they are so sharp. And their eyes… they are so evil. It seems that they pierce my soul, Mother."

"Have I never told you the story of the winged creatures?" Diana shook her head, no, her mother had not, otherwise she probably would not feel this… paralyzing fear of the creatures. Her mother wrapped an arm around Diana tightly, embracing the warmth she felt there in her daughter's soul.

"Long ago, there were two lovers named Celia and Titus. They lived in the country of Ophiliad back before the Trojan War."

"What happened to them, Mother?"

"Titus was a servant to the Gods, while Celia was a peasant girl, trapped by Zeus' son, Hermes, as a prize for a race he had won. Titus was ordered to serve Celia dinner underneath the crack of her door every night and walk her once around the courtyard every day for an hour. At first, Titus preferred to keep silent around the peasant girl who seemed to out-smart him at every task. She ran faster than him, she answered questions quicker. On the outside, he told everyone she was a pest and a believer in romance. On the inside, he longed to _help_ her believe in romance.

One day, when Titus walked around the courtyard with her, he noticed her crying.

'Why do you cry, little sparrow?' She told him about the other guards and how they had been talking about needing a human sacrifice. He ended the walk early and rushed to the palace, questioning Hermes about the information Celia had given him. Hermes confirmed that there was to be a sacrifice and that it would be Celia, for she was of no use to him. Titus stormed out of the palace, his mind already churning with ideas to save his beloved. Hermes had said he would perform the sacrifice in one hundred days. Titus knew he must think quickly to save Celia.

Day after day went by and Celia knew nothing of Titus' plan to allow her to escape. He would not see this beautiful creature- so intelligent and so pleasurable to the untrained mind- die in vain.

On the ninety-ninth night, Titus slipped a key for her door into Celia's food tray with a note on where to meet him that night.

'Dearest Celia,' the note read, 'Please make with haste and consume the food quickly. Tonight, we will leave this place, together. Do not question my actions, for you know what is going to happen tomorrow- it is the Harvest Moon of Zeus. I will not let them murder you, little sparrow. The key to your door is included on your tray. Please, please act with haste and hurry. Meet me at the end of the corridor, next to the sleeping quarters.

I'll be waiting in the dark,' the note finished off with.

He had everything planned out- how long it would take to run to the departing ship and how to disguise themselves once on the ship. Together, they would sail to Rome and hide away there for a few years until they would be just a distant memory in anyone's mind, thus able to return to Ophiliad. So on that night, he waited by the servant's quarters for Celia, just like the note instructed."

"Then what happened? What does this have to do with the winged creatures?"

"Celia never arrived. He waited there until dawn, worrying that if he moved out of the darkness, the guards would see him and question his actions."

"She never came? What is wrong with her?!" Diana gasped and Hippolyta's eyes twinkled at the sight of her daughter's distress.

"The guards had come in the middle of the night and captured her. While Titus waited in the dark, she had been sacrificed in the palace's courtyard."

"Oh, Mother," Diana cried, "How tragic. Poor, poor Titus. Did he ever find out what happened?"

"He did, eventually, after he ventured out into the palace. He was so heartbroken and stricken with grief, he convinced himself that if he stayed hidden in the dark, one day Celia would return. Titus lived to be an old man, residing in a cave on the shores of Ophiliad. Now, when the winged creatures come out at night, they are searching for their lost ones- the sparrows, which only come out into the light at daytime."

"Mother, that story was rather disheartening, I have to admit."

"Yes, but now you have no reason to be afraid of the winged creatures. They are only lonely souls, searching for their lovers." Diana rose from the bed, her small feet padding against the marble floor. She leaned up on her toes, peeking out over the edge. Underneath the window's ledge was a small winged creature, fluttering its wings, as if having a nightmare.

"It's all right. You will see her one day," Diana whispered to the creature. The creature slid open one eye, peeking up at the girl, and then tucked itself closer to the wall of the palace.

**AN: It's rather short, but that's all right. Not sure if there is a place called Ophiliad or if Zeus ever had a "harvest moon." **


	16. Red Peppers

**AN: I was thinking about a quesadilla I just ate. Then this popped into my head. You'll understand when you read it. Haha. **

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. Happy late Halloween, everybody!**

_Oh, but what I__'__m seeing I__'__d sure love seeing  
Every morning from now on  
And maybe it__'__s a little too early  
To know if this is gonna work  
All I know is you__'__re sure looking  
Good in my shirt_

_You Look Good in My Shirt – Keith Urban_

"Bruce?" A wheezy voice called out from the darkness. I stirred, blinking my eyes twice before recognizing my bedroom. Whose voice was that? "Bruce, wake up!" I shot up, wishing for my suit. The night was so… dark without night-vision.

"Wha- what? Who-" A hand gripped my shoulder, turning me 'round as if I was on a lazy Susan, and suddenly I was face-to-face with an Amazon princess- an Amazon princess wearing nothing but a white T-shirt that cut off mid-thigh. Every guy's wet dream, right?

"What did Alfred put in that stir-fry tonight?"

"You woke me up at three in the morning for a recipe?" Having Diana and John stay at the manor wouldn't be that big of a problem, Clark had said. I could distinctly hear Diana's voice in my head, telling me that it would be like she wasn't even there. Why did I always cave under her promises?

_Cause you lo_-

Never mind.

"No, I did not wake you up at three in the morning for a _recipe_," She mocked me in a deep baritone that I was sure didn't sound a thing like me. What was she freaking out about then?

"I came in here because of _this_!" Light flooded the room and I shielded my eyes from the harsh glare coming from the ceiling fan. Once my eyes stopped burning, I glanced over to see what Diana had been blabbering on about.

"Holy shit!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"What happened? Are you all right?" My fingers went up to her normally porcelain face which was now scarred with red blotches and tears.

"No," Her voice croaked, "I believe Alfred put something in the food."

"You think that Alfred sabotaged your dinner?" She must have noted the incredulousness in my voice because of the look I received in return.

"Of course not! But perhaps he bought some type of produce that does not agree with my immune system or perhaps the poisoned food was meant for you."

"Oh, thanks for that."

"I was only telling you my theories," Diana pulled away from me, "The real reason I woke you up was to ask for your advice on how to get rid of…" her hand danced around her face and I noticed the other red blotches, swelling and blistering, all over her skin, "… this." I hauled my legs out of the covers, wiping my face and stood to face the princess.

"Tylenol?" She balled her hands into fists and was about to let loose some Grecian curse words and hexes. Quickly, I opened my bedroom door up and led her out into the hallway. "We'll go talk to J'onn."

()

"All you need is some rest, Diana," J'onn concluded in his long-winded speech about the different effects food- particularly red peppers from stir-fry- could cause. "The swelling will linger for two days or so and then should be gone completely. I suggest plenty of fluids to wash away the rest of the bacteria."

"Thank you, J'onn." The Martian Manhunter smiled politely and I could feel his eyes on the two of us as I led Diana back to her bedroom- four doors down from mine. She slid underneath the covers and noticeably winced as the faux suede comforter rubbed against her irritated skin.

_Don't even think about it_. The Bat was right- letting her sleep in the same bed with me would pose a serious risk of… well… distraction and God knows what else. A groan slipped between her swollen lips as she lifted the sheets around her body, shivering most likely from the deep chill of the manor.

"Do you want to sleep in my bed?" Her eyes shot open, rolling over to my stance by the doorway. "What I mean is… my comforter and sheets are much less… abrasive than the ones you're sleeping in. And it's much bigger than this bed, so you would have plenty of room to sleep without me crawling on top of you. Not that I'll be crawling on top of you, obviously. I mean-"

"Bruce?" I cleared my throat and looked up from the space on the floor I'd been scrutinizing ever since I'd started blabbering. "That would be much appreciated." Without waiting for her to rise, I started back down the hall and into my bedroom, slipping underneath the covers. The double-doors closed with a soft click- how come when she was there, everything was softer and lighter than before? – and soon I felt her weight press down next to me, the covers shift slightly, and then all was quiet.

"Know any good bedtime stories?" I mumbled and flashed a quick smile as she rolled over to face me.

"Naturally. I've been around for quite some time, so I'm pretty sure I have a few stories up my sleeve." With the Bat objecting and cursing in my head, I reached down and grasped her hand, running my thumb lightly over her knuckles.

"I'm sorry you're allergic to red peppers."

"I'm sorry I've been living for centuries and just figured out that I'm allergic to red peppers." A comfortable silence spread throughout the room, where all I could hear was my own breathing and hers.

"So how about that bedtime story?" The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. I cleared my throat, scooting closer to her body and tightening my grip on her hand.

"All right. Once upon a time, there were two lovers named Titus and Celia…."


	17. Shots

_He's the devil in disguise  
A snake with blue eyes  
And he only comes out at night  
Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight  
You better run for your life_

_Cowboy Casanova – Carrie Underwood_

"I'll have an order of what just walked in," a rather obese woman beside Diana told the bartender, who just smiled politely and went to grab another apple martini for the woman. Diana turned in her seat, spying him near the entrance to the club, blushing as drunken college girls pressed their bodies against his.

_There's a sight to see_. Diana pushed through the crowd, ignoring the deep cat-calls as she went.

"I'm assuming you don't come down to the Gothic Strip often?" She inquired and sipped on her double shot of whatever the bartender had given her. By now, the tips of her fingers were trembling with the buzz. Or maybe it was a triple shot?

"It's not exactly a place I like to be seen at," he glanced around the establishment, trying to avert his eyes from breasts and short skirts and found himself having a hard time doing so, as they were literally everywhere. "How about we go to some place quiet?"

"Why, King, I'm shocked at your forwardness!" Diana placed her palm on his chest, stroking her index finger idly around the buttons. Ignoring her attempts at seduction, he pushed her to the back of the club and immediately cringed. The scent of sex and pot filled his nostrils. He hoped to God it wouldn't get stuck in his clothes.

"Here's the information you wanted," he slid a small manila envelope out of his pocket and handed it over, to which Diana stuffed it into her bra, "Make sure to keep it… safe. All right. I guess that works, too." She smiled and he thought of all of those hot alien babe movies he'd watched- although he was positive that Diana wasn't from outer space. Then again, she did have all of the qualities of those hot alien babes: big breasts, vivacious thighs, ruby red lips and silky, long blonde- "Why on earth are you wearing a blonde wig?" She giggled at his question.

"Batman said we had to be undercover. This is me," she stepped closer and he shook with delight as her hot breath tickled his neck, "Being undercover." King cleared his throat and brought both of his hands up to straighten his tie.

"Well, I see you're doing a fine job, Diana. You know, I do have to be going, so-" He watched her spin on her heel and strut away, almost stumbling over a piece of trash before slamming open the back door of the club and disappearing into the night. Just as he was about to follow her, a rather large woman dressed in leather roped her arms around his middle and tugged him towards the dance floor. "Oh, ma'am, I'm not-"

"Straight? I don't care!" She exclaimed and he felt a migraine coming on from the bright lights. What had he gotten himself into? "You're gonna dance with me, sugah!" King Faraday cringed again as a slow jam- isn't that what teenagers these days called those tunes?- began.

"Damn it, Diana."

\/

"I'll take what just walked in!" The divorced-with-two-kids-lawyer screeched on the stool next to her. Diana smirked, her peripherals catching Bruce Wayne stepping into the club. She knew he would appear eventually. After all, Bruce only came to places for two reasons- women and information. She caught his line of sight, breath hitching in her throat at the leather jacket and sparkling blue eyes he bestowed upon her presence. He could make anything seem like a sexy fairy tale.

"Why are you wearing that wig again?" He murmured, slipping up next to her at the bar and handing the bartender a twenty for a refill of whatever she was nursing on.

"I know where you keep your costumes," She winked and lifted the bottle to her lips.

"There's nowhere else I need to be tonight, you realize." Her only answer was a sly smile.

"Come on, cowboy," She flashed a grin his way and he lifted an eyebrow, "Show me what you can do with that ass." Her palm slapped against his backside as they headed to the dance floor.

**AN: If I could give Faraday a nickname, it would be Pansy. I always imagine him being… well, a pansy, because Bruce is so much tougher and sexier than he is. **

**And yes, this could connect with the third chapter. **


	18. Happy

_You're trying your hardest  
And the hardest part is letting go_

_But compared to your eyes, nothing shines quite as bright  
And when we look to the sky, it's not mine, but I want it so_

_Let's not pretend like you're alone tonight  
I know he's there  
You're probably hanging out and making eyes  
While across the room, he stares  
I bet he gets the nerve to walk the floor  
And ask my girl to dance, and she'll say yes_

_Miserable at Best- Mayday Parade_

He stands there, sipping the drink that had been thrust into his hand absently, not really noticing what it tasted like. It was a wonderful evening, a summer wind providing the outdoor air conditioning they desired while the sinking sun added the perfect backdrop to the laughing, dancing couples, and yet he can't help but feel melancholy, the faint tinge of sadness clinging to him despite his efforts to shake it off.

His eyes are cast across the garden and he sees them dancing, near the center of the crowd, smiling and lost in their own world. Her hair is swept up, the tiny lights sparkling off her strands and her eyes shine as he spins her out then brings her back to him tightly.

"I thought I'd find you up here."

"I let her go."

"You did what was best."

"I know," He murmurs, "I let her go."

He had been foolish enough to think that he himself would be good enough for her, would be all she would ever need. He had been wrong but he accepted that, in time, because really, there was nothing else he could do. Not by this time, anyway.

"She'll always love you."

He knew it was true just as he knew it was true that he would always love her. Life goes on, time moves on, changes things, but not this. This would last forever, like the sun rising in the east and the planet tilting and twirling- like the ivory dress-clad woman that should be in _his_ arms- changing seasons and passing time.

"I'll always love her."

"She knows. And he knows too. He'll take good care of her, just as you did."

"I know."

"He makes her happy."

"I know," He sighs.

He tears his eyes away from the dancing couple, turning to look at the woman next to him, the one who's stood by him- through thick or thin, through sickness and health- and she offers him a smile. Her black hair is pinned back, away from her face, and her eyes shine brilliantly and he manages to return the smile. She's always had that effect on him.

"Will you miss her, Diana?"

"The house will definitely be quieter now. No more fussing and fighting, throwing hairbrushes at little brothers and arguing over favorite cups," They share a quiet laugh at the images popping into their heads, "But I know she's happy. And I know he'll take care of her. I thought you had prepared for this, Bruce."

"I thought I had too," He admits quietly, "I hoped and prayed that she would find someone to make her happy, to care for her, to love her. I just never expected the pain that comes along with it, of letting her go finally, after all these years," He swallows the emotion building up inside of him, "I don't want to let go of my little girl."

"Mom! Dad! What are you two doing up here?" A frown appears between her two eyebrows, something she inherited from her father, or copied from years of watching. "Aren't you enjoying the reception?" Her mother moves from her husband, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

"Of course we are. You look gorgeous, sweetie," Diana whispers into her daughter's ear before moving on to the new addition to the family.

"Dad?" Melody asks, tilting her head to the side. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," He replies, going over to press a kiss to her forehead and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiles widely, blue eyes glittering from the light and he can't help but shake his head at her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just… reminiscing of when you were a little girl."

He can picture it perfectly: that bright pink bathing suit she adored so much with the princesses on the front and her skinny legs leaping and leaping over the sprinkler in the backyard. The orange creamsicles she was fond of covering every inch of her and she's ruining his new pair of slacks, but he doesn't care.

"Dad," She nudges him now, "Don't get all torn up. You'll ruin my dress," She giggles and he laughs, hoping she doesn't notice the tears he's holding back.

"I was just remembering when you were a toddler and you were riding your tricycle through the mansion and you were wearing nothing but your birthday suit."

"Dad!" She exclaims now, glaring up at her father who can't stop grinning, "No embarrassing stories about my childhood. Not at my wedding, do you understand?" She demands as her new husband catches the end of the conversation and laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around her.

"There's no mistaking she's your daughter, with that attitude, Mr. Wayne," Diana mutters softly and Bruce pinches her playfully.

"I find the stories about your childhood hilarious though, Mel," Her new husband teases. Melody spins in his arms, eyeing him sharply as mother and father eye each other, knowing her moods, her temper, better than anyone else. "That's precisely why they are _not_ to be told."

He's smart, he backs down easily. Bruce knows that Melody has taught him well, trained him perfectly.

"It's time for pictures, anyway. My parents are already waiting near the fountain and I think your brother's flagging down the photographer."

"All right," Melody sighs and turns to her parents, smiling at them hopefully. "Come on you two, enough hiding, you have to mingle. And smile. This is a _wedding_, remember?" Her eyes turn to her father and her smile is addicting, "Please Daddy, be happy? For me?"

"I am happy, Melody," He promises and she gives him an eyebrow. So much incredibly like her father.

He can still remember the day she arrived, despite the years that have passed, twenty-seven though she would deny it if asked. He had been worried over her, scared, waited until that first cry filled the room, only then was he able to breathe out a sigh of relief. Only then was he able to cradle her into his arms, give her a beautiful name that would fit her persona so well, and tell her he would love her forever, even when she threw tantrums and became sick after too much Halloween candy and wanted to borrow the car. Even when she waited half a year before letting him see her smile, which appeared one day while he was holding her, showing her the glass ornament on the Christmas tree Alfred had bought in honor of her first Christmas.

He shakes his head again, following the happy couple down the stairs and through the party-goers, to the center of the garden where the silver fountain spurts water in a dizzying array of rainbow droplets. He grins wide for the pictures, his hand around his wife's waist and his other on his daughter. Several brilliant flashes later and he's off, heading back to the veranda, back to watching- his favorite hobby, Melody told him once when she was little, before she knew he was Batman. Suddenly, there's a hand on his shoulder and he turns to look at the young man standing before him.

"Sir, I just wanted to-"

"I know," Bruce interrupts, allowing a small grin to slip out, to comfort the boy, "I know you'll take care of her. It takes a lot of guts to marry someone like Melody, but I know you're the right one for her."

"Uh- thanks. Thank you, sir," He stutters before being stolen away by his new wife.

"You did what was best." He doesn't have to even glance to know it's her.

"I know."

"You let her go."

"Yeah."

"Now, was that so hard?" He rolls his eyes and responds by pulling her closer, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"I'm just glad I didn't have to deal with the father of the bride on our wedding day," He pauses, "Even if you're mother was hard enough to handle."

"Would it help if I apologized again for her throwing that bottle of champagne at you during the reception?"

"That's okay. I still stuck with you, didn't I?" Diana chuckles and presses her head into the soft dip where neck meets shoulders.

"You're such a charmer."

"I try."


	19. Wanderer

"_I could have got more out. I could have got more. I don't know. If I'd just... I could have got more."  
"Oskar, there are eleven hundred people who are alive because of you. Look at them."  
"If I'd made more money... I threw away so much money. You have no idea. If I'd just…."  
"There will be generations because of what you did."  
"I didn't do enough!"  
"You did so much."  
"This car. Goeth would have bought this car. Why did I keep the car? Ten people right there. Ten people. Ten more people. This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this. I could have gotten one more person... and I didn't! And I... I didn't!"_

_-Schindler's List_

This may be completely obvious to you. When I tell you this, you'll shake your head and mutter something along the lines of "really, dumbass?" But before I tell you anything else: listen.

Having the world hate you doesn't have its perks. There's no inner feeling of completion. Movies and TV shows make it so easy to fall into this perception, but it's not real. None of it is. Having the world hate you, hate you so much that they would do anything to hurt you, to tear apart your life, isn't easy to deal with. Especially when you have no idea why they hate you for. I don't have this particular problem, though. I know exactly why humanity hates me, why they can't stand me.

I'm Hitler to the world because I've given up, even when giving up was my only option. I'm Schindler to Diana and my children, who are the only ones who know my secret.

Alfred is standing in the doorway from the kitchen to the living room, watching me silently, even though it appears he's watching the television. It reminds me of when I was a teenager and he would always monitor what I watched, so I wouldn't ruin my mind with pictures of half-naked woman on the upper channels. Now, it's the same.

"Master Bruce, should you really be watching that?"

"You know what they always say, Alfred. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," I motioned to the screen, "This way I'll know what they've got against me."

"And when you say 'they' you mean…?" I don't give him an answer, because I'll end up eating my words and he knows that. He's too clever for an old man who makes the best damn pot roast on the planet. Now he's muttering something under his breath and usually I would pay attention, but the woman on the TV screen is shouting, so I can't hear a thing.

"What's he going to do next? Reveal that Superman isn't really a _man_? This Bruce Wayne slash Batman saga has gone on too far. He needs to crawl out of his ass and show us if he _deserves_ to protect the lives of billions of people on this planet." It's always fulfilling to see the world come together, to unite to seek the common goal. But not when you're the only one that knows why they should be uniting for another goal: the fact you saved their asses but no one has thanked you.

"Sharon, what do you think would be best for the poor man? He's been out protecting you and your loved ones and you're angry because it's _Bruce Wayne_?"

"He's lied to the whole damn country, Bill! What if those Justice Leaguers are all fakes? What if Superman is really Hugh Hefner? What if Hawk Girl is a mechanical bird running on a super computer?" The fiery-haired woman leans in close to the screen to add a dramatic effect. I don't feel my pulse quicken, which I'm sure that's what she wants to happen. "How are we supposed to trust these people with our lives if we don't even know _who they are_?" Because we've spent the past sixteen years saving you from burning buildings and psychopaths? I want to scream this at the television and throw my bottle of cabernet until the shiny black object breaks in two, shattering the woman's face in half. But I don't. It's not true anymore.

"Well, people have taken a stand against this. So many people were outraged in Gotham that they burnt the Wayne mansion down. Are you egging on these deranged arsonists?" There's the knot in my stomach again. I thought the wine would help relieve some of the pain, but it hasn't. I should switch to something quick, like cyanide.

"Only because there's a no one running Gotham! I'm not saying we should go to those extremes but would you trust someone to pull you to safety that doesn't even stick around?"

"No, but-" She never gets a chance to interrupt him. Her face shatters into cracks, a spider-web of plasma screen and HD technology. Red wine drips down from the cherry-stained shelves of the entertainment center. Alfred brings in my coat, draping it over the sofa.

"It's such a shame. Your parents loved the mansion so. Miss Diana always appreciated that staircase, too. And remember when Master Nathaniel would slide down the banister?"

"I remember," I answer and tug on my coat.

"We can always rebuild, sir. We can always return. You should just be happy that we got out safely when we did."

"She left. She left after I did all of those terrible things."

"Sir, you cannot blame yourself for wanting to protect your family." I can hear Nathan and Melody laughing through the walls from inside this tiny cottage, the sound bouncing and bouncing through my head until they evaporate. "There is always hope, Master Bruce." I can hear Diana coming, her heels clicking against the floor, and I'm sure she'll pester Alfred about who he's been talking to.

My coat is warm and drapes against me as I step into the frosty winter wind of Northern Ireland, where Diana has puts down roots for our children.

"Farewell, Master Bruce." He turns to pick up the glass I threw at the TV, which is in shipshape and gleams back against my eyes. Would you believe me if I told you that there's a newspaper headline down at the Gotham Tribune that reads 'Batman and Bruce Wayne's Vanishing Act'?

I turn my body against the wind and head towards the street, not sure where I'm going. Diana's made a good life for herself, even after I told her of my plan and hugged my children goodbye. It's easier this way, I tell myself, when I look at my fake blonde hair and green contacts in the mirror of whatever hotel I've stayed at, paid for with cash. It's easier if I just disappear, instead of having everyone hate me for being Bruce Wayne and Batman, they can hate me for being the wanderer, the vagabond on the streets of London.

I'm Hitler to the world because I've given up, even when giving up was my only option. I'm Schindler to Diana and my children, who are the only ones who know my secret. The secret that keeps me in the shadows as a different man, a different soul.

Having the world hate you doesn't have its perks. It's a hard job, being a widely-hated man who no one understood that I had to leave to help save them. That I kept a finger from pushing a bomb that would have blown apart the world seventeen times. That's why I couldn't be him anymore. I sacrificed Bruce Wayne to save everyone else.

**AN: I know this is very OC and our faithful Bat would never give up for the sake of the world (he would go out fighting!), but let's just say he took a chance with his super ego. The quote is from the famous Holocaust movie and the only reason I put it in here is because Bruce is completely innocent and no one but his family knows that. **


	20. Austere

_Unsure unconvincing  
This faint and shaky hour  
Day one day one start over again  
Step one step one  
I'm barely making sense for now  
I'm faking it 'til I'm pseudo making it from scratch  
Begin again but this time I as I  
And not as we_

_Not As We- Alanis Morissette _

A door opens into the light.

A row of manicured fingernails rap at the Formica tabletop.

A question arises and keeps on floating higher and higher.

A chair protests softly.

A row of manicured fingernails rap at the Formica tabletop.

A cloth-clad fist halts the nails.

A lone eyebrow arises and stays put.

A question is asked.

A voice is pleading and trying to come to sense with what it's being told.

A growl answers and does not allow much knowledge.

A row of manicured fingernails grip onto the cloth-clad fist and tighten as the chair protests, loudly this time.

A promise of never letting anything ever happen like that again is heard.

A voice contradicts and points out that nothing could have been done and it wasn't a big deal.

A cloth-clad fist slams down onto the Formica tabletop.

A loud gap of silence isn't welcomed.

A chair says nothing and neither do the manicured fingernails as the cloth-clad fist moves toward the door.

A small voice calls out a name.

A growl does not reply.

A baritone apologizes for nothing to be sorry for.

A knob and gut turn and churn together.

A small voice demands an answer, demands to know where the cloth-clad fist is going.

A door opens into the darkness.

A sad smile rips apart a usually stoic façade.

"Nowhere."

A door closes on the light.


	21. Frisbee

_Is this the end of the moment _

_Or just a beautiful unfolding  
Of a love that will never be or maybe be  
Everything that I never thought could happen _

_Or ever come to pass and I wonder  
If maybe, maybe I could be all you ever dreamed_

_Cause you are beautiful inside,_

_So lovely and I can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are  
And when I'm not with you, I know that it's true  
That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you_

_Anywhere But Here- Safetysuit_

We were drunk off of vodka and between us, nearly three containers of Oreo's had been diminished and devoured, their crumbs scattered across the Wayne lawn. She was wearing a strappy tank-top and crisp white shorts that enhanced the length of her legs. In Layman's terms, she looked sexy and I couldn't wait until we'd had enough vodka to tear off her clothes in my bedroom and devour her until the sun peaked into the window to see what on earth we'd been doing all night while it had been away.

"How long have we been out here?" She asked me and I shrugged, reaching out for the Frisbee, and ended up on the ground with my head spinning from the alcohol. I could hear her giggling, far off, but coming closer and closer. Finally, a weight pressed down against my chest and her warm fingers slowly danced across my abdomen. Her breath spread out across my neck and suddenly, the cool air was turning warmer and warmer. Or perhaps that was just my body temperature.

"Princess," I moaned, pushing myself up onto my palms, "Not now. Not here in the open." She sent me a flippant grin, but obliged, and pulled me up with her, my heels digging into the moistened grass underneath me- more to steady myself around her than anything else.

"Good idea. Besides, there's a good chance we would have passed out and Alfred would have had the pleasure of finding us both, naked, on the back lawn next to his prize-winning roses." We winced in unison.

"I don't believe he would appreciate that."

"Me either."

"You wouldn't want to find me naked on the back lawn?"

"Well, certainly, Bruce, but not if I was Alfred." She caught on to the fact that I was just teasing her- one of the many favorite things I do with her- and tossed the plastic disk back to me. I snatched it out of the air and tucked it underneath my arm.

"Refills?" She nodded enthusiastically and retrieved her empty glass. With her attention elsewhere- I could see her in my peripherals strolling through the rose garden- I retrieved the Sharpie out of my pocket and scribbled across the bottom of the Frisbee. "Have you ever tried throwing a Frisbee upside-down?" I called to the Amazonian goddess sauntering back towards me. A thoughtful gaze flickered across her slightly hazed features.

"Not that I recall. Considering my fellow sisters and I never played this game, I would say there's a great probability that I haven't."

"Try it out," I pitched the object to her and she caught it deftly in between her palms with an audible _thwack_- sounding like her sandals snapping against the pavement on hot summer days. Perhaps I was muddled from too much chocolate, cream, and Black Cossacks. Yes, I believe that was the reason for my strange-doing. I watched as Diana turned the Frisbee over in her hands, prepared to send it flying towards me, but paused suddenly. Her head snapped up from the toy, to me, and then back down again. Up, down, up, down. I became quite amused with it, but my palms were still sweating and the butterflies in my stomach were completing their choreographed Olympic-worthy gymnastic routine.

"Bruce?" The word on her lips might as well have been the soundtrack I wanted to hear and breathe for the rest of my life.

"Yes?" I responded innocently.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes." That night, as we made love underneath those stars and that bright night sky- ignoring any quandaries about sex in the backyard and Alfred finding us in the morning- I thanked God, if he existed, for vodka and Oreo's and Frisbees and the woman in my arms.

**Fin. **


End file.
